


Fluid Like Water

by ellerean



Series: Fluid Like Water [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Olympics, Post-Series, the makogou is super-secondary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, the Olympics were an unattainable goal, a future he'd ceased to dream of. But with high school graduation Rin dares to dream again, and this time he isn't doing it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the start of the most ambitious fic adventure I shall ever embark on. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> First things first: many, many thanks go to [my fabulous beta reader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amusingmurff/pseuds/homeboylookslikesharkweek), whose insight has been irreplaceable. She is also responsible for our unofficial subtitle:  
>  _Rin and Haru's Big Gay Olympic Adventure_

 

> _All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves._ —Anatole France

The train ride to Iwatobi felt different.

It was the same ocean landscape, the same steady _ba-thump_ over the rails. But Rin’s heart raced faster with each stop along the line. He’d peeled off his uniform jacket the moment he’d embarked, leaving him in only white slacks and a black T-shirt. But still he tugged at the collar, the nervous sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

The train pulled into Igumi and Rin watched a family jostle for seats, the children bouncing off one another before finally settling down. A young woman stopped in the aisle by Rin, having claimed the empty seat beside him, and tried to hoist her suitcase into the overhead compartment.

“Need some help with that?” he asked, already standing.

“Yes, please!” Rin pushed the suitcase upward, fitting it beside his own overnight bag. She thanked him as they sat, admitting she was embarrassed that she needed help at all.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “Getting it up there is the hard part.”

She was cute—long, straight black hair, green eyes behind her glasses. And she’d made no secret of checking him out as he’d lifted the heavy suitcase, his biceps bulging under its weight.

He stared out the window at the passing ocean. At some point, she’d stopped looking at him and began to read.

The ride was different. _He_ was different. Rin looked up at his overnight bag, which held his newly-printed diploma. Another one of his romantic ideas that Haru merely put up with—since their graduation ceremonies were the same day, the best they could do was show each other their diplomas. It was why he still wore his stuffy uniform; it was why his mother held on tight at the train station, though she knew this was no ordinary visit to her dear Haruka’s. (Ironic that she considered Haru one of her children, like he was already part of the family.)

The intercom buzzed overhead and an electronic voice announced, _“The next stop is . . . Iwatobi.”_

Rin’s heart thumped as he turned to his seatmate. “’Scuse me, gotta get my stuff.”

“Of course!” She inched to the edge of her seat, fearing to stand while the train was in motion. Rin managed to maneuver around her, reaching overhead to grab his bag and jacket one-handed. He muttered a “thanks” as he sat, pulling the coat around his shoulders.

“You’re a Samezuka student?” the girl asked.

“Yeah,” he said, zipping his jacket. “Well, I _was_. Graduated today.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” She marked her page with a finger as she closed the book. “I guess you have big plans tonight, huh? Going to see someone special?”

Rin knew all the little tricks. He’d picked up enough from locker room gossip—casually ask about a significant other. Say, “I bet your boyfriend thinks you’re cute” or something ridiculous so she’ll reply, “Oh, I don’t _have_ a boyfriend.” He had to admit, this girl had some guts.

But Rin smiled, twisting the promise ring on his finger. “Yeah . . . yeah, I am.”

The intercom crackled again. _“This station stop is . . . Iwatobi.”_

“Have fun!” the girl chirped, bouncing out of her seat so he could get out. He waved over his shoulder as he strode down the aisle.

The air outside was blissfully cool. Rin slung his bag over his shoulder as the Iwatobi crowd dispersed, meeting with friends or heading down the platform alone. He turned to watch the train disappear for its next destination.

“Rin!”

He spun around. Haru was pushing against the flow of traffic, squeezing past bodies to get closer. They rarely embraced in public but now Rin leaped for him, throwing his arms around Haru’s shoulders as he laughed in delight. “You never come pick me up!”

He held to Rin’s forearms as they faced each other. “I came from graduation. It was on the way.”

“Liar.” Rin smirked. “You missed me.”

Haru looked away, but a small smile replaced his usual pout. “Shut up.”

Haru still wore his school uniform, too, though the tie had been slightly loosened. Rin smiled as they headed down the platform, brushing Haru’s fingers in lieu of holding hands.

“Hey, Haru . . . wanna take a walk?”

“We _are_ walking.”

He blew the wayward strand of hair away from his face. “Not to your _house_. A _real_ walk. I’ve been sitting all day; I’m restless.”

“Okay,” Haru replied. “Me too.”

The fresh air felt nice after being on the train, and moving his legs at all was welcomed after sitting through the two-hour ceremony. Rin slung his bag around his back, stretching his arms overhead and lifting his face to the sky. Suddenly, he broke into a grin.

“Race you to the bridge!” he said as he bolted, leaving a sputtering Haru behind.

Rin laughed as Haru’s feet pounded behind him. But he wouldn’t slow for him to catch up—the breeze whipped his hair back and he breathed in deep, feeling the air circulate through his lungs. He didn’t stop until he reached the bridge and turned to Haru, who was only a few paces behind.

“You cheated,” Haru said, as Rin looped an arm around his waist and nuzzled his cheek.

It was different. Rin’s mind flooded with memories as he leaned over the side of the bridge, staring at the rushing river below. It seemed so small now, though everything did. Haru rested his chin on Rin’s shoulder.

“We’re not in high school anymore,” Rin said.

“Mmm.”

“So much is changing.”

Haru’s kiss was gentle, his lips lingering on his cheek long after. “Some things won’t.”

The sakura trees weren’t in bloom yet. Rin tried not to sulk as he took Haru’s hand. They walked the familiar tree-lined path toward that house he’d once occupied, long ago, when his only goal in life was to attend Iwatobi Elementary. The journey once felt like an eternity, but his grandmother’s house appeared over the hill far sooner than he would have liked.

“Haru.”

Rin thought he’d feel less nervous with Haru now, but it only kicked up the butterflies in his stomach. When Haru stopped walking Rin leaned against a tree; Haru squirmed with how tight Rin held to his hand.

He let go and raked both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Rin . . . ? What is it?”

It was no secret they’d soon be leaving Iwatobi. Rin had worked hard through high school—his times were intimidating, and the swim team at Kyoto had accepted him without question. He’d gone once, just to try out, and they nearly begged him to join before he’d even left the building.

It had been hard, though, without Haru there.

Though Haru’s destination was that same city, his plans were of a different sort—he’d sworn off competitive swimming; he’d ultimately declared a visual arts major at Kyoto University. He had no real passion for college, but as long as he could get access to the swim club he seemed satisfied enough.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto in a few days,” Rin said. Haru nodded; he’d been ticking the days off his own calendar. “After that—”

“I know,” Haru interrupted. He _didn’t_ know; neither of them did.

He took both of Haru’s hands in his, staring as they twined together. Haru, too, would be leaving that week, and he still couldn’t fathom that they’d both be saying goodbye to Iwatobi, heading for the same city. Building a new life, one far from home. He pressed Haru’s palms to his lips.

“Rin,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind Rin’s ear, “I told you why I’m going to Kyoto.”

They’d discussed it months prior—Haru had been accepted to several schools, but it wasn’t until Rin announced his commitment to the swim club did he make a decision. Now, Rin forced himself to look up, meeting Haru’s beautiful, blue eyes.

Those eyes softened, his thumb tracing Rin’s jawline. “I’m there for _you_.”

Rin breathed in deep. He nodded, taking Haru’s hand again as they continued up the hill. Haru hated holding hands for too long—already they’d started to sweat—but Rin held on anyway, guiding him to his grandmother’s house and silently unlocking the door. The house had been mostly vacant since he’d left for Australia, so there were still remnants of his elementary school days scattered around. He’d never cleaned out his bedroom, or put away his old swimming books, and Haru looked around in awe as Rin headed for the kitchen.

“It’s like a museum,” Haru marveled, heading to a low shelf. He picked up a small trophy and swiped a layer of dust from its plaque. “Is this from Sano?”

“Yeah.”

He poked the tiny gold swimmer on top. “First place.”

“Of _course_ it’s first place!” Rin shouted from the kitchen.

“That’s because I wasn’t there.”

“If you’re so good,” Rin said, carrying a tea tray into the sitting room, “why don’t you join the team at Kyoto?”

Haru _hmph_ ed as he sat at the low table, eyeing the tray Rin set before them. “What’s all this?”

It took some planning for Rin to get to the house between packing up his dorm and graduation preparations. Two teacups sat on the tray, a dried sakura blossom at the bottom of each. Rin slowly poured hot water over them both.

“Rin . . .”

Rin shushed him.

They watched the blossoms unfurl, awash with the subtle scent of spring. He’d included some sweets on the tray as well but they were both transfixed by the flowers, floating within their porcelain cups.

“Congratulations,” Rin said, picking up his tea. He’d had a speech planned, but the words were lost—lost in relishing Haru beside him, who picked up his own cup to breathe in the scent of the tea.

“You, too,” he replied, his voice soft. He took a sip.

Rin closed his eyes as he drank. The tea soothed his heightened nerves, calmed the shaking of his fingers. And then he watched Haru—he’d set down his cup and pulled the tray of sweets closer, picking one at random. Rin’s heart was filled to capacity, overflowing into his chest and lungs as he simply watched, studying the way Haru’s throat moved as he swallowed and the way his fingers wrapped around his teacup’s handle again.

“Haru?”

He looked up.

“This is nice.”

Haru smiled down at the sakura blossom.

“I want to always be like this. With you.”

“Rin?”

He’d pressed a palm to his forehead, inwardly cursing himself for stumbling over everything. He’d written down what he’d wanted to say but hadn’t brought the paper; he thought he’d remember all of it, but words meant nothing now that they were there, together.

Haru gently pulled his hand from his face, tilting his head to meet Rin’s eyes. “What is it?”

“I want to marry you, Haru.”

The silence was absolute. Haru lowered his hand to the table, aimlessly tracing the edge of the tea tray. Even Rin didn’t whimper or cry, staring down at the blossom floating in his tea.

“We can’t,” Haru said.

Rin flinched as he stared into his teacup.

“I _would_.” Rin looked up when Haru grasped his finger, gently stroking the promise ring. “But we can’t.”

“We _can_ ,” Rin whispered, choking on his words. “N-Not here, but . . . I’ve looked it up. We can go somewhere else, Haru. Australia, or—”

“Okay.”

Rin nearly upset his teacup, catching it before it spilled over the table. He stared wide-eyed, blinking rapidly, the word not yet processed through his mind: _Okay._ So simple—so like _him_ —and Haru, even now, sat motionless; the only indication he’d said anything was the quick rise and fall of his chest.

Haru closed his eyes as Rin traced his features, lightly touching his cheeks, his lips, his chin. He touched the corner of Haru’s eye, feeling the slight damp that had accumulated. Haru grasped that hand, held it to his lips as he kissed his palm.

“When?” Haru asked.

Rin curled his fingers around Haru’s cheek, the cool band of his ring pressed to his skin. “Soon,” he said. “As soon as we can.”

 

There was no time. Training began that weekend. And Rin still had to move everything back to his mother’s, pack for the months he’d be away, and Haru, too, had to finish packing for his big move.

Rin already had a small, one-bedroom apartment for himself in the city, but Haru was doomed to spend his first year in the dorms. And Haru was the worst at packing—moving boxes were scattered around his bedroom, clothes spilled from his closet. Rin was lying on his bed the following day, taking a break from his own packing. He tossed a stuffed dolphin toward the ceiling as Haru rummaged through his belongings. Haru threw a pair of black track pants on the bed.

“Hey, I wondered where those went!” Rin chucked the pants aside and reached for Haru instead, grabbing the band of his sweats as he tried to walk away. He stumbled backward, knocking the wind out of Rin as he elbowed his chest.

_“Oww!”_

“Don’t _do_ that,” Haru said, but snuggled beside him. He slipped a hand under Rin’s T-shirt to rub the sore spot on his skin.

“Done packing?”

“Hn.” He grazed his fingers over Rin’s chest. “Not if you keep distracting me.”

“Ha! You’re doing this yourself, baby.”

Rin rolled on top of him, whipping off Haru’s T-shirt in one swift motion. He arched his back, shuddering when Rin touched his skin, when his lips pressed to his breastbone. Now was the point Haru would typically complain, reminding Rin of everything they had to do before they left, but instead he hiked up Rin’s shirt, desperate to feel skin on skin. Rin sat up briefly to pull it over his head.

Packing had been abandoned, again. Haru wasn’t bringing much to the dorm, but he required more than a box of swimsuits and a framed photograph of his now-fiancé.

“Haru,” Rin murmured into his neck, “think of when we’re married.”

He let out a contented sigh in response.

“Our home”—he kissed Haru’s neck—“our bed”—his lips trailed his jaw—“everything.” Their lips met and Rin eased into him, Haru wrapping one leg around his thigh. “You don’t want to back out yet, do you?” he asked, breathing on his ear.

Haru arched back as Rin peppered his skin with kisses. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

Miraculously, they accomplished packing something. More than swimsuits and sketchbooks, at least. Rin knelt on the floor to grab some stray books from beneath the bed.

“Don’t forget your water porn,” he said, tossing the magazine to Haru.

“Don’t just throw it!”

Rin couldn’t stay long, though, because his mother was being fussy and possessive. “Some crap about ‘you’ll get to see him all the time when you leave,’” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“But she’s right.”

“Yeah.” Rin nuzzled his cheek. “I know.”

But already the house was quiet without Rin. Haru stood at the kitchen window, watching Rin jog down the stairs outside. They hadn’t seriously discussed it, but he expected Rin would come live at his house, someday. When it was all over; when Rin had his gold medal. No longer his grandmother’s house but his, _theirs._

Not long after Rin disappeared Makoto appeared at the front door, as if he’d waited for him to leave. He probably had.

“What’s this?” Haru asked, eyeing the gift bag in Makoto’s hand.

He smiled as he slipped off his shoes, grasping the bag’s handle in both hands before holding it out. “I know we said we wouldn’t exchange graduation presents, but I’d already started it.”

Haru raised an eyebrow.

“It’s from the twins, too. They did most of the work.”

Even when they sat at the table Haru was reluctant to open it, knowing it would be something mushy and sentimental. He’d ignored serious conversations with Makoto for that reason, unable to admit they’d be hours apart rather than down the street from each other. When he looked up, Makoto was already misty-eyed.

“Makoto . . .”

“Open it,” he said, nudging the bag closer.

This is what he’d tried to avoid. Pulling the scrapbook from the gift bag, staring at the photo of them on the front: Clad in their school uniforms, the last time they’d worn them, proudly displaying their high school diplomas. Makoto smiled wider than Haru, but that in itself was unsurprising.

“I wanted to give it to you on graduation,” he explained, “but I needed the pictures.”

Haru opened to the first page: Baby Makoto, nearly twice the size of the dark-haired infant beside him, selflessly placing his stuffed penguin in a pouting Haru’s lap.

“I don’t believe you have all this,” he said, slowly turning the pages. But really it was no surprise, with all the photos the Tachibanas had snapped of their childhood: Beach trips, summer festivals, the swim club. There wasn’t much from middle school, but Haru recognized countless photos Gou had taken in the later years—the training camp, the relay with Rin, the first summer they all spent together again.

“Haru?” Makoto was beside him instantly, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Haru, don’t cry!”

“I’m not crying!” he said, his voice cracking.

There was a letter at the end. Haru couldn’t read it, not yet, not with Makoto right there. “Thank you,” he said, resting his chin on Makoto’s shoulder. “Not just for this.”

“I know,” Makoto said. “You don’t have to say it.”

 _Tokyo_. Makoto would be in _Tokyo_. They couldn’t show up at each other’s rooms unannounced; Makoto couldn’t stop by for dinner; they couldn’t spend a couple hours together at the pool.

“I’m glad you’ll be with Rin.”

Haru sat up and adjusted his promise ring, watching the metal glint in the light. “We’re getting married.”

Makoto chuckled. “I know.”

“What do you think?”

He watched Haru fidget with the ring. Makoto had been the first to receive news of that ring exchange, witnessing Haru’s rare smile and that glow previously reserved for the pool. Now, the smiles were less rare, the glow a permanent fixture. Makoto simply replied, “I’m happy for you.”

Haru opened the scrapbook again, to the elementary school relay victory. The page was dotted with water-related stickers, of ocean waves and aquatic animals. The decorations were surely Ran’s doing.

“Rin is your soulmate,” Makoto said. “I’ve never doubted that.” He placed a warm hand over Haru’s, covering half the photo. “There’ll never be someone else like him.”

He snorted. “That’s true.”

“Haru . . . you’re happy, right?”

He stared at Makoto’s hand, completely concealing his own.

“I’m scared, too,” Makoto said as he sat back. “But even though we’ll be far apart, you can always talk to me!” He flipped the scrapbook to the beginning, to their infant selves sharing a kiddie pool. “I— I love you, Haru. You’re my best friend.”

Makoto didn’t often cry in front of others. The hesitation was there, in the way his voice cracked and the quick swipe of his eyes. But the moment Haru touched his shoulder he broke down, rivers streaming down his face as he clutched Haru’s arm.

“I’m not ready for everything to change,” he whispered, and Haru pulled him into a hug.

It was one more thing to pack. The scrapbook fit in nicely with the rest of his books, squeezed between required art texts and oversized photographic books of oceans. He didn’t want Makoto to follow to his bedroom but he did anyway, quietly sobbing as he looked around the semi-empty room.

“I’m coming back,” Haru said.

It was a small comfort; Makoto couldn’t know if he, too, would settle in Iwatobi after college. But he smiled as he leaned against the doorframe. “I can’t stay away forever,” he said with a small laugh. “The twins would never forgive me.”

Haru smiled as he resealed the box. He wasn’t surprised when Makoto hugged him again and he welcomed it, holding tight to his best friend in the midst of his childhood room.


	2. Chapter 2

Haru visited the Matsuoka house the night before Rin’s departure. He braced himself for a bombardment of its women: Gou did nothing but cry, and their mother squeezed the air from his lungs with her embrace. She’d prepared a mackerel and steak dinner, which thrilled Rin, until he was reminded how often such a meal would exist on his future kitchen table.

“Whatever,” he griped, rolling his eyes, but held Haru’s hand in his lap.

Makoto, too, had planned something special, instructing them both to arrive at Iwatobi High’s pool late that night. “It might be the last time we’re all together for a while,” he said, as Haru dived in. Rin shouted at him to get out while Makoto laughed, unpacking the small cake on a bench. “I know you don’t like sweets, Rin, but this is a special occasion.”

“Haru!” Rin shouted, fork in hand. “Get up here!”

They ate strawberry cake sitting at the pool’s edge, dangling their legs in the cold water. Haru didn’t mind, but Makoto was shivering so much that Rin rubbed against him like a cat.

“This may not have been a good idea,” Makoto said, chuckling as Rin playfully nuzzled his shoulder.

“No,” Haru replied, dipping a hand into the pool. “This is nice.”

“You guys are coming back, right? Eventually?”

“After I win the gold?” Rin smirked. “You bet.”

When it was time for Rin to leave Makoto claimed to need the bathroom, ducking into the locker room after they bid each other goodnight. At first, Rin did little else but lean against Haru, splashing him lightly until he shivered.

But then Haru took Rin’s face in his hands and kissed him, sliding a cold, wet leg across his lap. Rin shoved that leg off but didn’t break the kiss, trying his hardest not to giggle while their lips were locked.

But he burst into laughter the moment they separated. “You are _freezing_ ,” he said, pushing Haru into the pool.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Haru tugged on Rin’s legs, and the surface of the deck was too slick to prevent him from falling in.

They didn’t hear the soft creak of the locker room door, or notice Makoto smile as he crept away for home. They were focused only on the rippling water, on the soft touch of Rin’s lips on Haru’s skin, dragging down his shoulders to the water’s edge. His breath caught when Haru’s fingers slipped into the back of his swimsuit.

“ _Haru_.”

He kissed the bridge of Rin’s nose before floating backward.

“Now I have to ride the train like this,” Rin said, climbing out to sit on the pool’s edge. Haru squeezed between his legs to kiss his stomach as Rin towel-dried his hair.

It was a renewed passion, the inability to keep their hands off each other. Rin felt it as he pulled a damp jacket around his shoulders, kissing Haru again when he climbed from the pool. Haru felt it as Rin threw an arm around his shoulders, smiling as Haru’s lips pressed to his cheek.

“Haru,” he said, as Haru’s arm snaked around his waist, “where’s Makoto?” 

* * *

 

The next morning was a cacophony at the Matsuoka house. The founding members of Iwatobi High’s swim club arrived, helping to pack the last of Rin’s belongings into the car. Rin grumbled over the big production, but couldn’t hide the tears he swiped from his eyes. Rei immediately went to work carrying boxes from the house, while Nagisa did little else but cling to Rin at every opportunity.

“I’m not _dying!_ ” he cried, prying Nagisa’s hands off his arm. “You’ll see me again!”

“Yeah, on TV!” Nagisa said, which brought the smile back to Rin’s face.

Haru had escaped to the kitchen, but Makoto wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his extended absence—he caught Gou’s eye, who had just finished shoving a box into the backseat, and she nodded before skipping into the house.

“Haru-nii-san?”

He stood at the sink, staring at a full glass of water on the counter. He'd displayed no outward signs that he’d heard but glanced at down at her, unsurprised, when she hugged his arm.

“Come outside! Everyone’s leaving soon.”

They leaned into each other at the same time, Haru resting his chin on the head that fell to his shoulder.

“You’ll see him in a few days. It’ll be okay.”

“How did you manage,” he asked, “when he went to Australia?”

Gou shrugged. “I was kind of young. I didn’t really understand.” She jumped up to sit on the counter and held out his glass, which Haru gratefully accepted. “But I knew it wouldn’t be forever, and I know you guys will come back here, too. You better.” She lightly kicked his hip and he smiled, downing the water in one gulp.

“Oi, Haru!”

Gou jumped off the counter when her brother came in, quickly pecking Haru’s cheek before slipping back outside.

Haru melted into those arms that circled his waist, Rin’s body pressed to his back. Despite their forthcoming reunion he focused only on that warmth— _Rin’s_ warmth—soaking into the back of his T-shirt, like it was the last time he'd feel it.

But their friends’ chatter and laughter reverberated from outside, seeping through the window like smoke. Rin held on tighter and kissed the back of his neck.

“Too much commotion,” Haru muttered.

“I know, baby,” he said, knowing more the excuse was a lie.

When they reemerged outside the Matsuokas piled into the car, Gou crushed in the backseat among her brother’s belongings. Rin made the rounds for hugs as they cried and cheered their well-wishes. Haru kissed him firmly on the lips—Nagisa whooped in approval—and kissed the tears from the corner of his eye.

Makoto draped an arm around Haru’s shoulders as they watched the car disappear, listened to its beeping as they drove off. Haru would have been happy enough going home by himself, but Nagisa insisted on karaoke.

“This might be the last time we’re all together,” Makoto said, which was a cop-out excuse he’d used several times before. Regardless, Haru found himself on the train into the city, despite it not even being noon yet.

He was reluctant to admit karaoke was fun. Nagisa sang most of the time, dragging Rei in for some duets, and Makoto had a good voice for cranking out rock songs. Even Haru got up once to sing, which was proof enough that he didn’t hate being there. Being lunch time, Nagisa ordered food for them all—and enough to feed the entire town of Iwatobi as well.

They were still in the room when Rin texted to announced their arrival. Nagisa wanted to buy another round of snacks in celebration, but the others immediately shot him down. Haru stared at Rin’s name on his phone, at the smiley face punctuating the end of his message:

_We’re here! Miss you already :)_

That dumb smiley face made it more manageable.

 _Be there soon_ , Haru replied.

He was quiet on the way home. Makoto let him brood on the train, staring out at the sun blazing over the ocean. And he was silent, too, as they walked home, speaking only to say goodbye at the bottom of the stairs. Haru tried to ignore that this would be one of the final times they’d go through these same motions, waving to each other before they parted ways. 

* * *

 

Makoto left two days later. Haru didn’t want to say their final farewells, but had no choice when Makoto texted him early that morning to say they were ready to go.

It was harder than Rin’s farewell. Haru was the only one outside the Tachibana family helping to pack for the early-morning departure. It would be a long drive, and the twins already dozed in the backseat, and Makoto wouldn’t stop hugging Haru even as his parents stalled pushing the last box into the trunk.

“I’ll come see you guys when I can,” Makoto said, sniveling against Haru’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Haru closed his eyes, fighting the lull of sleep, breathing in Makoto’s scent—familiar, comforting—before he let go. “Let me know when you’re there.”

He nodded, chewing his bottom lip as he squeezed into the backseat.

He watched them leave. Haru sat on the bottom step, watching Makoto wave from the back window, then listened to the faint rumble of the car until he couldn’t hear it any longer.

Haru hung his head between his knees, taking deep, calming breaths. He fumbled for his phone, ignoring the fact it was seven o’clock in the morning, and called Gou.

“Haru-nii?” She yawned, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Kou.” He was surprised how hard it was to choke out her name. “Makoto just left.”

She was there faster than he thought possible. Haru still sat on the step, staring at the Tachibana residence, gripping his phone. Gou assaulted him, first pushing a pocket pack of tissues into his hand, as if she’d expected him to be crying, and then with a hug.

“Let’s walk down to the beach,” she said.

The sun was rising and it set the ocean aflame, burning on the horizon. It was cold along the water but they sat in the sand, Gou huddling beside him.

“I thought it would be easier,” he said.

“Makoto-senpai is your best friend in the world! Of course it’s not easy. But you guys will have a lot of fun at college, and you’ll talk all the time.”

He wasn’t sure how she knew that, but it seemed the right thing to say.

A few daring souls sauntered onto the beach, ready in their swimwear. Haru knew the water would be freezing—from personal experience—and enjoyed watching them wade into the water, shrieking from cold. Gou laughed. “Remember when you’d do stuff like that?”

“I still do stuff like that,” he said, and she nudged his shoulder.

“Come on, have you eaten? Let’s get breakfast.”

It was good, hanging out with Gou. Haru silently ate his fish at the small café, listening to Gou reveal her plans for the swim team—the team Haru was no longer a part of. She was excited about the new recruits and he simply nodded, knowing they were in good hands with Rei as captain.

When they parted ways, after Gou squeezed him in a suffocating hug, he took a detour by Iwatobi High School. The sakura trees were beginning to bloom and it was still too cold to swim, but he sat by the pool’s edge and dipped his hands into the water.

He texted Rin. _Call your sister sometime._

He replied instantly. _Why, did she say something?_

Haru smiled at Rin’s name on his phone, hearing the panic in his tone. _No. She misses you. Don’t tell her I said that._

Haru slowly untied his sneakers, pulling them off with his socks. He rolled his pants to the knees and stuck his legs in the icy water, which was not yet warmed by the spring sun. His phone beeped. _Yeah ok. Going to the gym now xoxo_

“Stupid romantic.” Haru smiled as he pocketed his phone.

Already his calves were frozen, but he swung his legs and stared into the water. It didn’t feel like that long since the pool had been an abandoned mess—he vividly recalled sitting in the empty pool, pulling weeds alongside Makoto. Repairing the liner. Painting those stripes along the sides, repainting Nagisa’s crooked ones when he wasn’t looking. Listening—and ignoring—Gou’s barking orders.

It had been worth it. 

* * *

 

Haru had become friends with the postman that week. The truck was difficult to navigate through the narrow roads, but Haru would meet him at the bottom of the stairs with more boxes destined for Kyoto University. The dorm had promised to store his belongings until his arrival, given he’d be traveling via public transportation. He’d kept only enough clothes for his final days at home, and he would toss his toiletries in a bag the morning of departure. The process would’ve been easier if his parents were available with their car; he tried not to be annoyed as he carefully descended with another stack of boxes. They’d vowed to visit him at school, which was a promise he wouldn’t hold them to.

He listened to the putter of the mail truck leaving as he collapsed on the common room’s floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was never fond of working out, but it would have made carrying those boxes downstairs easier. _It would be easy for Rin and Makoto_ , he thought, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. He got up to make himself an early lunch. 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before he, too, was saying farewell to his childhood home.

He hadn’t expected Gou to show up. He hadn’t even mentioned what time he’d be leaving, but she showed up right after breakfast as Haru packed the last of his necessities into a duffel bag.

“How could I _not_ say goodbye?” she huffed, when he raised a curious brow.

He offered a half-shrug. “Not complaining. I don’t mind the company.”

“Mom wanted to come, too, but she had to go to work.”

Haru turned to hide his smile. “That’s okay. Too many Matsuokas.” Gou punched him in the arm.

She wasn’t overbearing, at least. She silently hung around as he prepared to leave, staring at the mostly-empty shelves and the spotless kitchen. When Haru finally threw the duffel over his shoulder, he gently set a hand on her arm.

“Want to walk to the station with me?”

It was strange, locking his front door. Haru stared up at his house and gripped the duffel’s strap across his chest.

Gou touched his arm. “Let’s go, Haru-nii.”

She was keeping it together better than Haru had expected. There was a fake confidence behind her smile, but he wouldn’t mention it. Gou talked a lot during their walk, but he didn’t mind the distraction. He didn’t mind, either, that she kept touching him—on the shoulder when she laughed, or his elbow as they turned a corner—like she couldn’t believe he was leaving, the same he’d done to Rin only days prior.

The platform was crowded when they approached, bustling with commuters. Gou immediately hugged him.

“Kou . . .”

“Have fun,” she whispered, standing on her toes to reach her ear. “And make sure Onii-chan doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Can’t promise that,” he said, and her giggles were muffled against his shoulder.

They didn’t let go until the train whistled in its approach. Haru’s shoulder was slightly damp with tears, but he didn’t say anything as Gou hastily wiped her eyes.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He kissed her forehead as the train squealed to a stop. “Imouto.”

He turned away as she froze, knowing the tears pooled in her eyes again. _So much like Rin_ , he thought, stepping through the open doors. Haru threw his bag in the overhead compartment and claimed a seat; Gou waved the moment she spied him through the window.

_“The next stop is . . . Oiwa.”_

He texted Rin as the doors closed. _Be there in 4 hours._

* * *

 

More and more commuters packed onto the train with each stop. He’d watch passengers embark, wondering where they were going. Who they would meet. A businessman sat beside him, who didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Haru didn’t mind.

He had to transfer at Tottori. Haru would have preferred to not travel alone; he disliked pushing through the thick crowds. He tried not to look completely lost as he sought his transfer, but at least the station was easy to navigate. He followed the signs and the flow of pedestrian traffic, reading the train map at the platform three times before boarding. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he tried to find a seat—no chance of sitting alone here—and finally sat beside a girl who was reading, who was least likely to strike up a conversation.

He checked his phone as soon as he sat. _Practice until 6. Meet for dinner?_

Haru’s chest burned, his palms sweating as he typed, _ok_.

Rin answered immediately. _Sound a little more excited!_

He couldn’t hide his grin. _I am._ He paused before adding a smiley face.

 _Look what this idiot has done to me_ , he thought.

_“The next stop is . . . Koge.”_


	3. Chapter 3

The hours crawled, but Haru was still surprised when the train pulled into Kyoto Station. He joined the rush into the terminal, hoping the crowd would lead him to the main concourse. He’d been to the city only once to visit the university with Makoto, and now he wished he’d paid more attention in the station. After a few wrong turns—one of which brought him back to the same track—he stepped onto the concourse, greeted by sunlight streaming through the skylights overhead.

Haru had never been ashamed of his small-town upbringing. But now, standing amid the bustle, he was keenly aware how much he stood out—fresh out of high school, likely smelling like fish and salt water, and clearly lost. He lifted his head to read the multilingual signs above him, finally locating the path leading to the bus terminal.

The scent of metal and exhaust tinged the outside air. Haru checked his bus ticket—he’d have to thank Makoto for making sure he had one beforehand—and asked the dispatcher which bus he had to board. To his relief, it wasn’t far.

It was another half-hour until he reached the dorm—the bus stopped right at campus—and Haru flopped onto the unmade bed the moment he reached his room.

The room was small—smaller than Rin’s room at Samezuka—but it had anything he could want: A kitchenette, bathtub, and a small balcony. His boxes were stacked in the corner, marked with packing labels and his room number, but the desire for rest was greater than the urge to rummage through his belongings.

During check-in he’d received his room key and a map of the area, which he now laid out over his bed. The roads surrounding the school were a haphazard mess, his eyes sweeping over the marker for the swim club he claimed he wasn’t looking for. He stared at the dot signifying Rin’s exact location, touching the characters for _Kyoto Swim Club_.

 _Rin_. He was right there, in that same city, traveling those same streets. Haru’s nerves tingled despite his exhaustion, like Rin had just entered the room. Like Rin was calling for him, _waiting_ , counting down the hours they would reunite.

Haru shoved the folded map into his pocket. He grabbed his keycard from the countertop before the door closed behind him.

He sped past the check-in desk, hoping the upperclassmen manning the table didn’t try to make eye contact. The other first years were obvious, with their wide eyes and hovering parents. At Iwatobi people dreamed of going away to college, fantasizing about how much cooler everything would be, but Haru noticed right away that it was the same people with the same dreams. The boys eyed up the first-year girls; the girls pretended not to notice them. Haru rubbed his thumb on the back of his promise ring, waiting for the signal to cross the main road.

There were a lot of vehicles. _A lot_. Running into traffic in Iwatobi had been stupid, but here would be suicidal. His hair fluttered with the speed the cars whipped past, and he stared at the red pedestrian light. He rushed across the street the moment it turned green.

He had only studied the map once, but he knew. Nagisa used to joke that he had _water radar_ , that he could locate any body of water within a thirty kilometer radius. But even if that were true—he still denied it—finding the swim club wasn’t difficult, for the natatorium’s skylights were visible in the distance. Well, maybe others wouldn’t know it was the swim club. Maybe they still wouldn’t know, catching glimpses through the alleyways.

But he knew. He’d swear he could _smell_ it, even from a kilometer away.

Haru got lost twice. One street was a dead end; the other lead him back toward campus. He ducked into an alley to consult his map, double-checking the street signs, and then nodded resolutely before turning around. It was nearly three o’clock when he approached the building.

It was a sight he never grew weary of seeing: The double glass doors automatically sliding open to the reception area, the walls adorned with trophies and swimwear behind windowed displays. The man at the desk silently watched Haru as he studied the displays, admired the swimsuits, read the tiny plaques on the trophies. Many were first place finishes—individual medley; freestyle relay—and though Rin’s name wouldn’t yet be on any of them, he still looked for it.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist finally asked.

“Oh.” Haru turned around. “I came to watch practice. My . . . friend is on the team.”

If the man noticed his flushed cheeks he ignored it, pointing in the direction of the bleachers. Haru nodded in thanks and headed down the hall.

The scent of chlorine, mixed with the sound of whistles and splashes in the pool, was like coming home. Haru stood at the top of the bleachers and twitched with anticipation, staring at the fifty-meter pool below. The sun blazed through the skylights, sending the pool’s ripples sparkling in the light.

Some other spectators were hanging around the bleachers chatting, but they ignored him as he jogged down to the front. Poolside was packed—they were practicing relays, and though there seemed to be no discernable order to the chaos, the coaches were shouting instructions. Haru carefully sat, gripping the railing in front of him, and narrowed in on Rin.

He was so _happy_. He was gathered around three other swimmers, which Haru assumed was his practice relay team, and they were jostling each other and grinning as they waited their turn. Rin kneed one guy in the leg and they both laughed, heads tilted back and smiles wide over their faces. Rin rubbed the finger where his promise ring usually sat—he’d obviously removed it for practice—and Haru touched his own ring, feeling his nerves spark again.

“Team three!” the couch shouted. “You’re up!”

The backstroke swimmer clapped each of his teammates on the shoulder before jumping in. Haru sat up straighter—they were in lane two, in clear sight—and in that moment Rin looked up, his mouth falling open.

If Rin had looked happy before, now he was _radiant_. His teammates followed his gaze—Rin had already started to blush—and he waved high in the air in greeting. Rin pointed toward the bleachers and his teammates waved, too; Haru smiled and returned the gesture. Rin nearly _danced_ as he stepped back into position, tapping his toes as the whistle blew.

Haru wanted to watch each of them swim, but he couldn’t look away from Rin. And Rin knew it—he was still grinning, casting an occasional glance toward the bleachers. They’d been apart this long before—longer, even, during final exams—but this time the distance had been heavy, and Haru could feel the weight lifting off Rin. He jumped onto the starting block right after the breaststroke swimmer dived and, to Haru’s surprise, blew a kiss toward the stands.

Haru looked around. No one seemed to have noticed, but he still shot daggers at Rin as he set.

Rin hardly made a splash as he dived, kicking smoothly underwater until he resurfaced. He was _fast_ , but he made it look easy. Haru knew exactly how Rin moved in the water; despite how often he’d thought about that body in the pool, he marveled at it each time. Rin’s turn was solid, kicking ahead of the other lanes, and though it was only practice Haru was gripping the edge of his seat.

Of course, he had to watch the freestyle swimmer as well.

He was good. Haru could hear Rin’s shouts for him above everyone else’s. There was some uncertainty in the stroke, an obvious push to move faster, and despite the guy’s shaky flip-turn their team finished second. Rin gave them all high fives before he disappeared into the locker room.

Haru wasn’t surprised to receive a text. _Meet me in the hallway!! :)_

He looked down at the team, which was oblivious, and jogged back to the hall.

The scent of chlorine preceded him and suddenly Rin was there, bare-chested and fresh from the pool, grabbing Haru’s hand to tug him down the hallway. Haru didn’t know where they were going, and he didn’t care; Rin’s hand was warm and damp and in his grip again. Rin pulled him beneath a stairwell, like high school lovers. Haru grabbed for him, feeling the cool _drip, drip_ from Rin’s wet hair on the back of his T-shirt. Rin shook with unshed tears, hiding them through his laughter.

“What are you doing?” he asked, standing up, holding onto Haru’s shoulders. “You should be at school!”

“I was.” He shrugged. “Wanted to come here.”

Rin’s kiss was slow, his lips and his fingers pruned from water overexposure. His hands cupped Haru’s face, sliding back to thread through his hair. He smiled when he pulled back, stroking his cheeks as their eyes met. “Are you staying?” he asked.

Haru’s hands rested on Rin’s hips, around his damp swimsuit. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten? Okay, there’s a great vegetarian place next door. Good food. Cheap.”

Haru scrunched his nose. “Vegetarian?”

“Ha! I know. Don’t knock it until you try.” Rin kissed his nose. “Meet me back here, all right?”

Haru raised his eyes to the underside of the dark staircase. “Right here?”

“You’re an ass. How about by the pool? The locker room’s down the hall. Do you have your jammers?” Rather than wait for a reply, he tugged at Haru’s belt and smirked as he peeked down the front of his jeans. “You’re impossible.” Rin kissed his cheek. “I have so much to tell you. We’ll get takeout for dinner and eat at my place. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

Rin didn’t shut up. And he never stopped smiling. But it was contagious—Haru mirrored his joy as they kissed, as Rin nibbled his lower lip. He backed away as soon as the heat rose to Haru’s neck.

“Gotta go. Love you.” He pecked his lips again. “Six o’clock, don’t forget!” As if Haru could.

 

The vegetarian joint almost tasted like real food. He ordered a lobster roll, and at half the price of the real thing he was content. He sat by the window, slowly eating as he watched the city traffic. As if an afterthought, he sent Makoto a quick text: _Arrived in Kyoto_. He’d like to know that much, at least.

It seemed too much trouble to visit the dorm again just for a couple hours, even if that looming pile of boxes waited for him, so he walked around the block. There wasn’t much besides the natatorium and some places to eat, but he was drawn into a sporting goods store that displayed swimwear in the front window.

An employee beelined for him as soon as he was through the doors, offering his expertise. Haru politely refused, claiming to just be looking around, though the guy still hovered as he checked out the swimsuits. He picked a few to try on, more out of desire to get away from the employee than any real need for a new swimsuit.

. . . But they _were_ nice.

Haru’s parents didn’t want him working while he was at college—his studies were more important—but the bank account they’d set up wasn’t exactly for more swimwear. And he’d certainly need money for whatever Rin was planning for their wedding. But he turned to check the back of the suit in the mirror. He wished Rin was there—he had a better opinion of what looked good on him.

A new swimsuit wouldn’t put a dent in the account, really.

And this one _felt_ right.

Haru headed back to the swim club, purchases in hand (a new swim cap was also required), nodding to the receptionist before slipping into the locker room.

It was bigger than he was used to, with rows upon rows of lockers. He leisurely walked through the empty room—everyone was still at practice—admiring how new and clean everything looked. Even the showers were fancy, with frosted glass doors and stocked with shampoo and body soap.

Haru didn’t have a padlock but he walked the room until he located a locker with a familiar set of numbers: 323. He tried Rin’s combination and was unsurprised when the lock clicked open.

 _What an idiot_. He stowed his things behind the door tagged with their anniversary date.

He got caught in the tide of traffic, wedged between swimmers heading for the locker room after a long practice. A few stragglers were hanging around the pool; Rin waved him over from where he sat on a bench.

Rin explained that there was open swim between six and ten at night, though the public didn’t usually appear until closer to eight. “Not that we’re staying that long,” he added with a raised eyebrow. “I’m starving.” But Haru was already walking toward the pool, glancing over his shoulder as he silently pleaded for Rin to shut up and get in.

But first, Rin called over the coach. “Time us?” he asked, jerking his head toward Haru.

“Rin?” Haru turned before he got to the pool’s edge.

“Like you can resist! Not scared, are you?”

Haru narrowed his eyes. He felt exposed without his goggles, but he stretched his triceps as Rin shook himself out beside him. They climbed to the starting blocks, glancing at each other with a smirk, and dived as soon as the whistle blew.

Haru felt them surface at the same time. Caught in the wake of each other’s kick; hearing each other’s breathing over their own splash. No matter how hard Haru pushed they remained neck and neck, and though Haru turned a fraction of a second before him Rin’s kickoff was always more powerful. Now, he could see Rin each time he breathed, trying to focus on the feel of the water rather than the line of Rin’s body. They smacked the wall at the same time.

Haru peeled off the swim cap and shook out his hair, ignoring the coach gaping at him.

“You were right, Matsuoka,” he said, staring straight at Haru.

“Yeah, yeah.” Rin laughed. “Who won, anyway?”

Haru was already drifting away when the coach declared Rin the winner, by two-tenths of a second. He sank down to his ears to drown out the conversation. When they wouldn’t shut up, he flipped over and went for a slow lap.

But Rin soon caught up. The pool was starting to fill with young families and beginner swimmers, and though Rin was ready to leave Haru wanted to stay for a while to watch them.

There was one little girl who was just starting her lessons—she fearfully gripped the side of the pool—but she had a powerful kick, and he didn’t doubt she’d stay afloat on her own. But her instructor held her hands anyway when she let go, kicking across the lane in a modified doggy paddle.

“Do you remember when you learned to swim?” Haru asked.

“Yeah.” Rin smiled. “Dad taught me in the ocean when I was four. What about you?”

There were hazy memories of the ocean, and his parents on the beach; then the swim club, the moment he was old enough to join. “Don’t remember. Maybe I was born in the water.”

Rin snorted, tickling his side before kicking off the wall again.

A voice rang out over him. “Nanase, is it?”

Haru was convinced the coach had waited until Rin left to single him out, intent on bothering him about joining the swim club. And he wasn’t wrong.

“Your boy’s working toward his Olympic dream. Why don’t you join him?”

He heard the splash of Rin’s turn; he had only a few seconds until he’d come back and relieve him of the conversation. “I don’t swim competitively.”

“Matsuoka said you guys—”

“Not anymore.”

Rin didn’t even have the decency to disturb them—he kicked off the wall again and disappeared down the lane.

“Well . . .” Coach scratched the back of his head. “You know where we are if you change your mind.”

It ruined Haru’s mood. He didn’t mention it, not even when they were out of the pool and changing in the lockers. And Rin wouldn’t mention Haru’s foul mood when they ordered dinner (real food, not imitation meat), but he couldn’t stay angry as they approached Rin’s building. He was so excited to show off his little city apartment.

It was a three floor walk-up, and the stairwells were dark and dingy, but Haru stayed quiet. Not that he had a choice—Rin kept on _talking_ , going on about the landlord and his cool neighbors and how the place was _all his_. Haru held the takeout bag as Rin dug through his swim bag for the key.

“Home sweet home,” he said, swinging the door open.

It _was_ small. From the doorway, Haru viewed the living room and kitchen at once—because they occupied the same space. On the left were two doors, which lead to the bathroom and the bedroom. Both were obvious from where he stood; he spied the shower and the corner of a bed through each doorway. Rin closed the front door, bouncing on his feet as he took the takeout bag from Haru.

“It’s small,” Rin admitted, setting the food on the kotatsu.

“It’s perfect.” It was _him_ , with his sparse furniture and swimming posters. The refrigerator was plastered with photographs, which Haru knew to be of him and their friends.

“Come on,” Rin said, tugging his hand. “Let’s eat.” He pecked Haru’s lips before they sat. “And tell me what got up your ass at the pool.”

Haru fumbled the takeout container as he lifted it from the bag. “Nice word choice,” he muttered, sliding the container of teriyaki beef toward him. Rin kicked him under the table. “Your coach thinks I’m Olympics material.”

“So?” Rin peeled the plastic lid off his container. “You are.”

“But you know I—”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned over to kiss Haru’s cheek in apology. “You don’t swim competitively.”

Haru scowled. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! Come on, first night together again? I don’t wanna do this.”

Neither did Haru. Rin leaned back to fiddle with a CD player on the shelf, turning on some low music in English Haru couldn’t understand. But even that suited Rin—he’d already created an atmosphere in his cramped apartment, and though it was still sparse it felt like he’d always been there.

They talked for hours, about everything and nothing. Haru couldn’t stay the night—he had orientation the next morning—but the sun was setting over the city, and as time passed they’d twined together on the floor, legs and fingers knotted together. Rin’s lips rested near the hollow of Haru’s throat, his words vibrating through his skin. He’d kiss him between phrases, ultimately preferring the kisses to the words at all, but Haru nudged him away.

“I’m not starting university all marked up,” he said, and Rin kissed his lips instead.

They made love that night, slowly, the sway of their hips and their breathing matched in equal rhythm. Rin whispered Haru’s name through declarations of love, which made Haru feel less needy for his own silent dependency. The floor was hard on his back but Haru wouldn’t complain, he wouldn’t let go. Rin’s soft kisses on his neck and his chest alleviated the pain. It was over too soon; they’d been too hungry for each other. But still Rin kissed him, lying on his back as he took Haru in his arms.

“Haru,” he whispered, stroking his back, “the championship meet is in August.”

“Mmm.” Haru pressed closer, shivering under Rin’s touch.

“It’s in Australia.”

Haru propped up, one hand spread over Rin’s smooth chest, still damp with sweat.

Rin’s smile was gentle, nothing like the bright, boisterous grin Haru was accustomed to. Rin touched the hand on his chest, his gaze steady as he felt for Haru’s ring. “Come with me,” he whispered.

Haru set his head down, listening to the rapid pulse of Rin’s heart as he twirled a strand of deep red hair. “What do you have to do to get there?”

He smiled and lifted Haru’s chin. Their kiss was slow, lazy in the haze of post-intimacy. Rin swept the mussed hair from Haru’s face. “I’ll get there.” 

* * *

 

Rin thought about it a lot— _Australia_. He thought of it at the swim club, every time he pushed himself to beat his personal best. He thought about it at the apartment, with Haru’s silent presence among his makeshift home. Once again, Australia meant everything—but it was different. It was the start of his rise to fame, his first international meet. It was the start of his new life, bound to the man he loved.

If Haru noticed the little shrine to Australia on his bedroom wall, he didn’t say anything—the photographs Rin had printed off the Internet of the aquatic center, the grid of record-breaking times he trained to surpass. But most of the wall was consumed with the wedding: Countless photos of city streets and natural waterfalls, places they could go on their honeymoon. Lists of tiny chapels that would accept them, because he refused to get married in some dingy town court.

Haru seemed indifferent about the whole affair, but Rin picked up his little quirks—how Haru reached for his hand when they kissed, touching his ring. How, when he left his laptop open, Rin spied a website for one of the chapels, like he’d been researching himself.  And when he finally visited Haru’s dorm, he was thrilled to see traces of himself: On a shelf over his desk, the elementary school relay trophy sat beside a framed photograph of a trip they’d taken to Tottori, at the height of cherry blossom season. That photo was Rin’s favorite, too, a rare shot of them both smiling beneath a blooming sakura tree.

Despite Rin’s insistence that he finish unpacking, half-empty boxes were still scattered around Haru’s room. But he was pleased to see that their photograph had made it out, at least, along with Makoto’s scrapbook. Haru didn’t discuss it, but Rin noticed its location shift each time he visited, as if he looked through it every night. And he didn’t argue when Rin, too, would slide it from its current spot to reminisce over simpler days.

“Hey, Haru.” Rin sat cross-legged on the floor, the scrapbook spread across his lap. “Check this out.”

Haru snuggled beside him to look—a photo of the Iwatobi swim club smiling for the camera, Haru sitting in the front row with his first-place trophy and usual pout. “What about it?”

“There.” Rin pointed to a cluster of Sano boys in the background, one in particular with a familiar head of red hair. “This was before we knew each other, huh?”

Haru rested his head on Rin’s shoulder, smiling as Rin turned the pages, neither admitting just how much they missed those days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory author gushing: THANK YOU SO MUCH to all you guys who are reading and commenting and providing endless kudos. I'm having so much fun writing this fic and I'm pleased that you're enjoying reading it as well :)

Haru only missed open swim on Wednesdays, when he had evening class. Rin was bored those nights swimming alone, and his fellow club members would ask how he could _want_ to be in the pool after a long day of practice.

But he wasn’t the only one, with the news of the championship meet in Australia. The teams were constantly switching, with the coaches subbing people out and testing new rosters, and many of the would-be Olympians remained in the pool after the others had gone home. Rin constantly had an eye out for potential relay members, but there was one backstroke swimmer in particular he refused to swap from his team: Kyoshi Fujioka—strong and fierce, with a stroke to match. He’d just missed qualifying for the Olympics in London, and had been training hard ever since. And the feeling was mutual. They’d eye each other during practice when a new breaststroke swimmer would swim with them, or when the freestyle leg of the relay dragged them down. Fujioka was his silent partner; he had an understanding of the water almost as much as Haru did.

Fujioka approached him one night after practice, when the others were headed for the lockers. It had hardly been a month since they’d started training together, but already Rin understood his unspoken gestures: that slight cock of his head meant he wanted to talk in private. And even before Fujioka said anything, Rin knew what was coming—they’d both witnessed the sloppy freestyle leg of their race that day. “Your boy needs to swim with us.”

Everyone had seen Haru swim. Rin recognized the adrenaline rush when Haru was in the pool—for both of them—and while the other swimmers eyed him enviously, only the coaches would press him to join the team. Haru had long since stopped acknowledging their requests.

“He doesn’t swim competitively,” Rin found himself saying. Not that Rin understood it—he’d remained with the Iwatobi team all through high school, but made it clear that he’d cease competitive swimming upon graduation. And he was more adamant once Rin started planning his own professional training. Luckily, Fujioka didn’t request details—he shrugged dismissively, like the coaches did, that hopeful look on his face that said _maybe he’ll change his mind._  

* * *

 

On Friday nights, the pool was mostly empty. The lifeguard didn’t mind that Rin and Haru swam past closing; he had to clean up, anyway, and the two of them didn’t require supervision. Friday nights were their time, free of practice and schoolwork and obligations. They hardly even swam, idly floating on the water’s surface instead. Rin had never before understood this notion of _not swimming_ , but it was nice not moving for a while, freely allowing the water to take control of their drifting bodies.

But once the lifeguard disappeared into the locker room, Haru zipped across the pool for Rin. The quiet was nice but it was nicer with Haru in his arms, with his head tucked beneath his chin and the slight ripple of water around them. When footsteps echoed back toward the pool, they broke apart with a quick kiss.

“You guys ready to go yet?” the lifeguard asked.

“You know,” Rin said, hoisting himself out of the water, “it would be easier just to give me a key to the place, eh?”

The lifeguard jerked his chin toward Haru. “Or that one. Nanase, are you part fish?”

Rin scoffed. “He eats enough of it.”

Haru opted to ignore them, grabbing a towel as he climbed from the pool.

He followed Rin to his apartment after the lifeguard locked up, another of their Friday night rituals. Rin’s apartment permanently smelled of chlorine, and Haru already had his own shelf in the bathroom, so it felt like home.

“Rin,” he said, the moment he closed the door.

It was the way Haru said his name that made him freeze, one hand on the refrigerator door. And the way he avoided Rin’s eyes, looking around the apartment instead. Rin grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “What’s up?”

Haru frowned. Rin took a sip of the water and offered him the rest. He accepted without hesitation, but didn’t yet drink. “Did you tell everyone at the club we’re together?”

“Yeah . . . why?”

Haru pouted, finally taking a sip of water.

“Hey, Haru.” Rin fluffed his hair, to which Haru didn’t even protest. “It’s okay, all right? The city is different. There are others like us.”

There had been “others” in Iwatobi, too, but the topic wasn’t readily discussed. It was one thing for their friends and families to know—though it had taken Haru’s traditional parents longer to accept the fact—but the general reaction was something Haru avoided, having grown weary of the side-eyed glances and the parents shielding children from the two boys who walked too close to each other.

“Listen.” Rin slinked an arm around Haru’s waist. “One of the guys told me about this nightclub—”

“No.”

“Come on! You’ll be with me. I won’t let anyone hit on you, promise.”

Haru narrowed his eyes. “They wouldn’t hit on _me_.” He grumbled when Rin kissed him, but his arms around Rin’s waist counteracted his protest. His back was against the door, Rin’s hand sliding up his shirt. He grabbed at Rin’s belt possessively, hipbones clashing as Rin tumbled into him.

“You _reek_ of the pool,” Rin muttered, then lightly sucked his lower lip. “Let’s shower.”

But once Rin had mentioned it, Haru started to notice—women leaned together in coffee shops touching hands; men in the locker room with rainbow-themed regalia on their bags. Even around school Haru picked up hints. He didn’t think he displayed any outward signs, and the few people he’d met at school hadn’t been to his room to pick up hints of a boyfriend.

He’d sit in the back of class—Introduction to Visual Arts, or Drawing 101, or whatever entry-level course was scheduled that day—and touch his ring as he listened, flipping through his sketchbook to all the anatomy studies that looked like Rin.

His hair was always a problem, but he was improving.

Mixed between the anatomy studies and required class sketches, his sketchbook featured more than one body of water. It wasn’t obvious on first glance—his pools were often suspended blocks of water with no barrier—but he continued to doodle them: ocean waves and waterfalls and tiny swimmers, Olympic gold medalists on pedestals with tears that flooded into oceans.

There was a girl who attended most of his classes, similarly quiet, who often sat in the back as well. Though their conversations rarely extended beyond a simple “hello,” it was a comfort to have a familiar face in the classroom.

She surprised him one day by sliding her chair to his desk. “Nanase,” she said, “your life study is really good. I wish I could shade like that.”

His sketch that had been critiqued the previous class was, of course, Rin, his muscles over-accentuated beneath his T-shirt. “Your shading is good, too.”

She flipped through her own sketches, as if trying to gauge his approval. Then she slowly closed the book. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Haru fiddled with his pencil. “Okay.”

“I was wondering about your model. You draw him a lot, don’t you?” That was fact; they’d all seen one another’s sketches. “He’s a perfect study. Is he someone you know, or do you, I don’t know, hire him?”

Haru couldn’t hide his blush. _Hire him?_ He imagined Rin modeling, or sitting on the center stool in studio, and though he wanted to laugh . . . it suited him, somehow. “We’ve known each other since we were kids,” he finally said.

“That’s so cool. You’re lucky.”

 _Lucky?_ He gripped his pencil so hard he feared it would snap. _He’s my boyfriend. I love him. We’re getting married._ “He’s—”

The professor strode in, his natural baritone reverberating over the walls, and the students fell into silent obedience.

But Haru was restless. He didn’t want to sketch another fruit bowl still-life; he wanted to run around the block and release his pent-up energy. Haru’s phone silently vibrated in his pocket as he was shading a bunch of grapes. His still-life wasn’t great—the professor praised it, but Haru himself was indifferent—and when the class was released he bid his new friend goodbye before rushing outside.

The text was from Rin. _The nightclub has under 20 nights Thurs! If you wanna go._

He swung by the student center, bought a sandwich and a bottle of water. He headed for the courtyard, where he found a shady spot beneath a tree. He took a bite of his sandwich before replying. _Ok._

_Really?? You’ll go??_

He flipped through his sketchbook as he ate: Rin’s smile; the ocean; Iwatobi High School. He had no desire to attend his next class. He packed up for the swim club instead.

He couldn’t get into the pool that evening, as there were classes going on, but he changed into his swimsuit and threw on Rin’s old track jacket to sit in the bleachers.

Rin had accepted a job as swim instructor. He taught four- to seven-year-olds the basics, how to float and kick and swim freestyle. Haru sat with his sketchbook watching Rin, who stood waist-deep in the water and coaxed a child to let go of the side of the pool. He was annoyingly patient—he smiled wide, his encouragement echoing over the other instructors, the kids battling for his attention. Now, Rin was walking backward in the pool, holding onto a boy’s hands as he kicked, and abruptly let go for him to do it on his own.

A few parents whispered to one another in the bleachers. “He’s so good with the kids,” a mother said. “Yuki has really taken a liking to him.”

“How could she not?” Her companion laughed. “ _I’ve_ taken a liking to him.”

Haru turned to a clean page and started to sketch another pool. An angled bird’s-eye view, a swim instructor and a small child. They shared similar smiling faces.

“Oi, Haru!”

He looked up. A dozen children—and one well-built swim instructor—waved at him from the pool.

“Get down here!”

He closed his sketchbook. He glanced at the chattering women as he passed, who were not shy about staring at him in astonishment. “Do you think he heard us?” one of them whispered, too loudly, and Haru coughed.

He stashed his belongings in Rin’s locker. The class was standing at poolside when he came out of the locker room, and the children cheered on his arrival. Rin bounded over and threw an arm around Haru’s shoulders, his skin damp and warm. "Nice jacket," he said, smoothing down the shoulder. “My adoring students want to see us race.”

Haru turned to the snickering children. “You want to see Matsuoka-sensei lose?”

Rin gently nudged his shoulder. “Oh, you’re on, Nanase.”

The bleachers were full of curious parents. A dozen pairs of eyes gawked from poolside, plus a few coaches. One prepared the timer. They stood on the starting blocks as Haru stretched his back, and Rin grinning at the kids. They crouched on the first whistle.

 _The audience_. Haru felt the rush the moment they dived, hitting the water at the same time. The high-pitched cheers. The flash of parents in the bleachers as he breathed. Watching him. Watching _them_.

The water moved beneath him. Rin’s waves disrupted his lane; Haru’s water infiltrated his partner’s. It propelled him forward, the ease of swimming in Rin’s wake. They turned at the same time, as they often did, evenly matched as they raced for the end. Haru smacked the wall hard and came up with a gasp.

“Nanase is the winner!” the coach bellowed, and the children laughed at their instructor.

Rin clutched his heart, feigning agony at the children’s joyful jabs.

“Again,” Haru said. A rematch.

Then best out of three.

“Again!” the children cried, their parents cheering from the stands, the coaches reminding them that class was over, that they didn’t have to keep on going.

Rin clapped Haru’s shoulder before they went under again.

Rin won, three to two. Their arms trembled as they climbed out, sitting at the pool’s edge with their legs dangling in the water. Rin gave each of the kids a high-five, and some insisted on hugging Haru before scurrying into the lockers. He blanched when one of the girls kissed his cheek.

“You’ve missed this,” Rin said, resting a hand in the small space between them.

Haru touched his fingers before sliding back into the pool.

They grabbed dinner at the vegetarian joint. Haru had become partial to the imitation crab cakes, which Rin ordered for him as he scoped out a booth. Haru’s muscles ached, his biceps burning with exertion, and Rin felt the same, judging by the stiffness in the way he carried their tray.

It should’ve helped purge the desire from his system, satisfying his need to be _watched_ , to feel someone in the lane beside him. But Haru’s body ached all over, his ears still flooded with the children’s cheers and the slap of their high-fives. Later, he couldn’t focus through night class—it was a lecture, and his notebook was only filled with doodles of waves, droplets, waterfalls. Haru decorated Rin’s initials with swimwear— _M_ in jammers, _R_ wearing goggles.

He had to call Makoto.

He couldn’t get to his room fast enough. He offered slight waves to his dorm mates, muttering a hello in passing. He locked himself in his room, hoping nine o’clock wasn’t too late to call as he punched his number into his cell. Makoto picked up on the second ring.

It was good to hear him, like he was down the street instead of five hundred kilometers away. Haru found it interesting that the distance didn’t change his voice, as if he expected him to sound any different.

He’d called at a good time, Makoto said; he just got out of class himself. Haru heard voices in the background but the noise reduced as he spoke, like he was walking away from the crowd.

“I can call back,” he said.

“No, it’s okay! It’s you, so they understand.”

A group of people five hundred kilometers away who knew him, who knew he was important enough for Makoto to step away from his new friends. Haru pulled the scrapbook from a shelf and held it on his lap.

They talked of their classes, of their surrounding cities and people they’d met. Haru wasn’t surprised that Makoto had made more friends than he had, and nearly laughed when he expressed confusion over the girls who’d started paying attention to him.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Haru asked.

“Haru!” Makoto laughed. “How’s Rin?”

“He’s Rin,” he said, looking up at their framed photograph. “He’s happy. I like his apartment. I’ll send you some pictures.”

“Ooh, your first email!” His smile was evident even over the phone.

Makoto dominated the conversation but Haru was comfortable simply listening. He learned the names of all Makoto’s new friends, not that he’d remember them; Tokyo had a swim club, too, that he was thinking of joining the following semester, once he was better settled.

“Makoto . . .”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be fine!”

“It’s not that.” He touched the scrapbook, their graduation photo displayed on the front cover. “I want to swim.”

Makoto went silent. The background noise crescendoed, people Haru didn’t know calling Makoto’s name. It felt foreign, like he wasn’t even in Japan anymore. “Are you sure?”

He opened the book. He knew exactly where the old swim team photo was placed, their first victory together. He traced Rin’s scrawny arm around his shoulders. “Yeah.”

He couldn’t know Makoto’s facial expression for sure, but he pictured it—his softened eyes, that patient smile. “Then tell him, Haru.” 

* * *

 

Instead, he agreed to go out Thursday night.

Rin was ecstatic. “I can’t tell you the last time I went _dancing_ ,” he said, rummaging through his wardrobe as Haru sat on the bed.

“You dance?”

“Sometimes the team would go at Samezuka,” he said, studying a shirt and then tossing it aside. “But for a bunch of swimmers, they kind of sucked.”

Haru had nothing suitable for clubbing, but Rin’s closet was packed. He allowed Rin to select his outfit, though he wasn’t yet sure whether he trusted him with the matter.

“Here,” Rin said, tossing some clothes to the bed. “This’ll look hot.”

Haru gingerly held up the selected top, pinched between two fingers as if it were soiled. “Where’s the rest?”

But Rin’s form-fitting clothes fit him perfectly. Haru stood expressionless before the full-length mirror, tugging down the hem of his vest. It dipped down to reveal a hint of his pecs, and Rin tightened the buckle in the back so his hips were better accentuated, the blue piping down the sides curving around his muscles.

“I need a shirt,” Haru said.

“No way. It’s perfect.”

Rin had deemed Haru’s jeans suitable, but he pulled a silver belt around Haru’s waist and, finally, a rope-chain necklace. Haru automatically touched the wavy, silver pendant that fell to his naked chest.

“It reminded me of water,” Rin said with a shrug, which brought out Haru’s smile.

But the heat rose to his face when Rin displayed his own clubbing outfit, which fit him like a second skin—black T-shirt with frayed sleeved, ripped shorter to show off his biceps; tight, dark jeans with a belt similar to Haru’s; a short necklace, braided leather on the base of his throat.

Haru stared at the tight muscles of Rin’s chest, which looked to be ripping through the shirt. “Let’s stay here.”

“Good try. Let’s go, babe.”

The club was within walking distance, and Haru was surprised how quiet it seemed from the outside. They’d almost missed the entrance—its black door was marked with a dull rainbow flag, which needed a repainting, and the club’s name in English in small block letters: sidetracks. They watched a couple guys go in before nodding to each other, Rin holding the door open for him.

It was dim inside, and the music loud; the bouncer checked their IDs and stamped their hands before they were permitted inside. They stood by the entrance, taking it in: A dance floor in the middle, the bar to the side, and a balcony with couches and what seemed to be food service. Haru’s vest suddenly felt tight—all around them men danced with each other, or chatted someone up at the bar, and they were _happy_. He blinked slowly, staring over the crowd.

Rin set a hand on his back, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Haru’s initial reaction was to retract, being in public, but it was okay. Here, it was okay. “Let’s dance,” he said, and Haru couldn’t hear his own confirmation over the music.

But the floor wasn’t _too_ crowded. People stepped aside to give them space, nodding to them like they were confidants. Perhaps they were—hidden behind an unmarked door, free to love and be loved. Rin wrapped an arm around his waist, and Haru’s arm automatically circled Rin’s neck.

They were close. Close, in public, in an unknown city. Rin’s mouth lingered at his ear, though he didn’t speak; their bodies flush, simultaneously seeking the music’s beat.

It was no surprise that he knew the way Rin’s body moved, like the sway of his own hips. It was easy to match his rhythm, as they always did, fluid like water. Rin’s chest to his chest, hips to his hips. Rin’s breathing accelerated as they danced faster, the arm around him tighter. Haru breathed in the scent of his hair and the beading sweat on his skin: A raw scent, one not marred by chlorine or trapped within the confines of bed sheets.

 “I’m losing moisture,” Haru said, as the song wound to a close.

“Just say you’re fucking thirsty!” Rin laughed as he swept them toward the bar.

Haru held to Rin’s belt loop as he ordered—one water, one pineapple juice. Rin kissed his cheek as he handed over a glass. Haru nodded toward the stairs to the balcony, to which Rin silently complied.

“Not bad, is it?” Rin asked, as they found a vacant couch space. It was small, more suitable for one, but Rin pulled Haru’s legs onto his lap as they squeezed together.

The dance floor looked small from above, and more crowded. A faster song played, something popular judging by the crowd’s cheers, and the floor was a flurry as they started bouncing and throwing their arms in the air.

“Rin,” Haru said, staring at the entrance, “there are girls here.”

They watched the group that had just entered: A couple girls surrounded by a few guys, all headed for the bar. Rin mindlessly stroked Haru’s leg, his fingers creeping toward his inner thigh. “Can you imagine my sister in a place like this?”

Haru sipped his water. “She’d love it. Look at all these muscles.”

They returned to the dance floor. Haru missed nothing—he caught men’s eyes graze Rin’s backside, scaling his body. It wasn’t predatory, merely admiration. Haru slid a hand down to cup his ass, moves previously reserved for the bedroom. He _felt_ rather than heard Rin’s groan over the music. The men gave Haru a slight nod, a smirk that said, _you lucky bastard_.

The feel of Rin’s breathing made the overwhelming bustle of the room okay, shielding him from overstimulation. He memorized the feel of the club—not merely the layout, or the surrounding dancers, but its very atmosphere, the giddiness and joy oozing from the floor. At one point Rin laughed, kissing him in the middle of a song, and Haru let him, his tongue warming the water-cooled interior of his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Rin muttered, and Haru greedily kissed him again.

“Rin.” He pressed a palm to Rin’s chest, feeling the throb of his heart. Rin’s smile was blinding—Haru saw only him, that radiance extinguishing all others on the floor. “ _Rin_. I want to swim with you.”

Rin tripped up his rhythm. His eyes widened, jaw slack. Haru was panting, losing focus with how close his face was, Rin’s shock channeling through his limbs and surging into his own body.

He repeated it, in disbelief that he’d said the words at all: _“I want to swim with you.”_

They crashed together. A hug that squeezed the air from him, a reverberated joy. Haru heard only Rin’s mirthful laughter in his ear, over the music pounding through the floor. Rin smeared his tear-stained face on Haru’s as he kissed his cheeks, kissed his lips. Men around them hollered, applauding for reasons they didn’t even know.

He’d planned to return to the dorm that night, with class early the next day, but his borrowed clothes were shed on Rin’s floor, his body cooled by their joint shower. Rin carried him, damp, to the bed, the softness of the sheets rivaled only by Rin’s embrace.

“What about school?” Rin whispered, but Haru shook his head. He wouldn’t speak. He would only kiss him, dragging his fingers through Rin’s damp hair.

Rin was more cautious with his body, his refusal to have sex for each of their benefits. They’d learned it the hard way—the day following sex affected their swim times, their bodies slack and sore. But sex was unnecessary: Haru cried out from a mere hand between his legs, soft lips on his neck. Rin wept when Haru went down on him, great gasping sobs that he’d first interpreted as pain, but heard the thrill through those tears each time Rin whispered his name.

They bathed again, massaging each other’s backs and dance-exhausted thighs. They changed the sheets, damp with sweat, before crawling back into bed, lazy kisses dragged over naked skin.

“Haru?”

“Mhm.” He’d lazed half-on, half-off Rin’s body, slowly kissing along his jawline.

“Tell me why you wouldn’t swim.”

His head popped up into Rin’s line of vision. He traced Haru’s lower lip with his thumb, soft and swollen with kisses. “Don’t register for the same events as me.”

Rin sat up on his elbows. “Huh?” He wouldn’t allow Haru to look away—Rin held his chin, catching the flicker in his eyes before he tried to hide it. “Why?”

Haru stroked his cheek. His expression softened into a wistful look, something triggered in the back of his mind, a suppressed memory rising to the surface. He kissed Rin’s fingers. “I won’t swim against you.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was something different about seeing Haru at practice. When he’d shown up for practices before he’d merely watch from the bleachers, staring wistfully at the pool. Now, there was a wave of murmurs when he emerged from the lockers instead, walking beside a beaming Rin, wearing his jammers and a towel around his neck.

The coaches insisted it was a pain in the ass getting him on the team so late in the game. Despite their constant pestering they gave him a hard time, grumbling over all this paperwork required to get him on the team.

“Let me swim,” Haru said. “I’ll prove it’s worth the trouble.”

Rin smirked as his coach prepared the timer, and they all watched Haru dive into the water.

It was home, the water sliding over him, lifting his head before he breached. The hazy sight of the skylights overhead, the sun’s gleam in the pool’s reflection. He moved automatically, passing the swimmer in the neighboring lane. The seconds ticked, he turned, and he didn’t break a sweat; he was hardly out of breath when returning to the start.

Coach stared at the timer, then down at his clipboard. He stared at Rin.

Rin could only grin at him.

Haru looked up at them both, sinking down so only his eyes were visible.

Rin glanced at the timer in Coach’s hand. “Hmph. I’m still faster than you, Haru.”

Haru blew bubbles through his nose and turned back into the water. 

* * *

 

He started skipping class, spending most nights at Rin’s apartment. He’d adopted his training schedule—run in the morning before breakfast, then work out at the gym. They’d scarf down a carb-heavy lunch before practice, and Rin would throw a slab of meat on Haru’s plate for dinner.

“Fish has protein,” he’d whine, staring at his steak, but Rin ignored him.

Haru easily fit into the groove of practice again. His rivalry with Rin returned tenfold—there was seldom a moment they weren’t shouting at each other, challenging each other to a race or pushing the other to swim faster. Rin had the speed while Haru had the endurance; they were often evenly matched. The others enjoyed watching them, and their enthusiasm was infectious.

He met Rin’s friends at the club, silently assessing their skills. He knew before the coaches did who would succeed, and who they’d see at the national level. Haru formally met Fujioka, who Rin claimed resembled Makoto in the water. Haru pouted when Fujioka bowed to him, mumbling that the formality was unnecessary. And he took a liking to Toru Yazaki, who swam breaststroke. “No relation to Aki,” Rin said, before Haru could ask. “But he’s good. In my top five.”

It was premature to form a team, but Haru caught the glances of other swimmers when the four stood together, agreeing to team up. The coaches didn’t argue, either, when they began to play off each other, timing their relays and practicing their handoffs. It was a game, competing against the other practice teams, silently choosing rivals and striving to beat them each time.

But he felt dead after the first week. Haru flopped face-down to Rin’s bed, arms spread wide, every muscle of his body screaming in pain. Rin sat beside him to massage his back.

“I don’t need all this,” Haru muttered, as Rin dug an elbow into his shoulder blade.

“Uhh, yeah, you do. What were you _thinking_ , swimming like this when you’re out of shape?”

He wouldn’t admit that he pushed himself hard. It was what he’d been used to at Iwatobi, but he’d never worked out daily—if at all. Now he felt it everywhere, from his shoulders down to his calves.

“I’ll draw a bath,” Rin said, lightly smacking his ass as he stood.

Haru groaned. “Love you.”

He rolled to his side, staring at Rin’s haphazard notes on the wall. The splash of water echoed through the wall as Haru stared at the photos of Australia, trying to pick out words from his lists scratched out in English. He’d taped up a calendar of the remaining months, crossing days off as they passed. _August_ _seventeenth_. The start of the championship meet, highlighted in yellow. The surrounding week was blocked off, the days they’d be in Australia, though none marked as the wedding day.

He hoped the shooting pain in his chest was from one too many bench presses.

Rin knocked on the wall from the bathroom, fluttering his notes. Haru grunted as he trudged to the bath.

He knew better than to complain about the temperature, but it was like stepping into the flames of hell. Haru lowered in slowly, his limbs shaking in protest. He pushed Rin away when he tried to help but ultimately relented, Rin supporting him under the arms, helping to ease him into the bath before he sat behind him.

“It’ll get better,” Rin said, pouring water over his head. Haru grunted, leaning forward as the water trickled down his back. It was hot, but it felt good, and he settled in farther to soak. He closed his eyes when Rin kissed the back of his neck.

The day before, Haru had finally logged into his email. He’d sent photos to Makoto while ignoring the flurry of emails from his professors. He’d missed a week’s worth of classes; they wanted to know if he was ill. His resident assistant, too, had asked where he was, and Haru thought maybe he should stop in and . . .

He didn’t know what. When Rin left him to soak he sank farther into the water, ignoring his protesting muscles. When he resurfaced, he heard only the soft click of keys from the living room as Rin typed. 

* * *

 

As promised, the following week was easier. But Haru made an effort to attend class—it meant cutting into his workout time, which Rin grumbled over, but he offered to make dinner the days he slacked off in training. Rin decided that suffering through mackerel was better than having to cook himself.

One evening, Coach approached Rin before they disappeared into the locker room. “Don’t forget,” he said, pointing the end of his pencil at Rin’s swimsuit, “you’ll need some jammers to compete.”

Haru lifted his head, like he’d announced there was a sale on mackerel. Or he’d been presented an Olympic pool for himself.

Haru rummaged through his bag the moment they got to their lockers. Rin raised a curious eyebrow as he pulled out a swimsuit, eyes sparkling as he thrust it toward Rin.

“What are you doing?” Rin asked.

“Here.” He pushed them into Rin’s hands. “Use mine.”

“I— I can’t fit into your scrawny jammers!”

“They are not scrawny!”

“Have you _looked_ at your thighs?” He chucked the swimsuit back at Haru who stared at him, bewildered. “I need my own!”

Haru pouted the entire way to Mega Sports. Rin appeased him by promising him a new swimsuit, too, which he pretended not to be excited over. Rin quickly kissed his cheek before the sliding doors opened.

“Hey, Matsuoka! Nanase!”

Yazaki jogged up to them, sporting the customary red polo of Mega Sports employees.

“You _work_ here?” Rin asked.

“How do you have time?” Haru whined.

Yazaki chuckled. “They’re pretty cool with the guys at the club. Hey, Matsuoka, you need some jammers, right? We’ve been wondering when you’d give up those legskins.”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a break.”

He pointed them toward the swimsuits, though Haru was already honed in on them. He had an armload of swimwear before Rin even started to look.

“And what about _me_?” he asked, picking through Haru’s pile of similarly-styled swimsuits.

“These are for you.”

“But that’s not my size!”

Haru frowned at everything Rin pulled off the rack—they were too wild, black with bold stripes down the side, haphazard colors or animal prints. He vehemently refused the cheetah print, but allowed Rin to try on the zebra.

“I’m coming with you,” Haru said, trailing him into the dressing room.

“No you’re not!”

“I have to see them on.”

“You can wait!” But he sighed, waiting for an employee to pass before shoving Haru into a room. “Just keep it down, okay? This is weird.”

“I have to try mine on, too.” He held up his four hangers, dangling the black jammers in front of his face. He couldn’t see Rin shake his head.

They bumped elbows as they undressed. Rin tripped on Haru’s discarded pants, crashing into him before hitting the wall. He pressed his face to Haru’s shoulder to suppress a laugh. But Rin finally managed to pull on the swimsuit, staring into the mirror, watching Haru’s reaction behind him.

“I feel naked,” Rin muttered.

Haru stared at Rin’s thighs as he said, “You look weird.”

“Y-You’re just not used to seeing it!”

“I thought we were keeping quiet.”

Rin scowled, but then inched over to scope out Haru in the mirror, too—black jammers, purple stripes down the sides. “I like that one.”

He kept his voice low. “Makoto would say it looks exactly the same.”

Rin shook his head. “It’s smoother around here.” He patted Haru’s quads. “Should help with drag.”

Haru blinked at him, expressionless. “I love you.”

To Rin’s surprise, Haru didn’t mind the zebra stripes. They were also partial to a red pair with black piping and one that, incidentally, looked exactly like his current legskins.

“It even has this,” Haru said, squeezing the semi-transparent material at his inner thigh.

“I knew you’d like that.” Rin smirked, cupping the back of Haru’s head before pecking his lips. “You’re dressed, you go out first. Like hell we’re leaving this room at the same time.”

The moment Haru closed the door behind him he heard, “Hey, Yazaki.”

Rin froze, one pant leg pulled to his knee.

“Nanase! Where’s Matsuoka?”

 _Don’t say it_ , Rin thought, squeezing his eyes shut. _Haru, you—_

“In the dressing room.”

_“Idiot!”_

Yazaki laughed. “Whatever you do, don’t leave a mess for me to clean up, all right?”

Rin pounded on the door. “It’s not like that!”

They ignored him. “You guys have the best times out there,” Yazaki said. Rin quickly pulled on his pants. The last thing he wanted was to leave Haru to idle conversation.

“I guess,” Haru replied. “Rin pays more attention to that.”

“I like you, Nanase. You’re into all this, but you’re not crazy about it, you know?”

Rin emerged from the dressing room. “You mean like me?”

He laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

Rin didn’t want to discuss teams in the middle of Mega Sports. But he wanted so badly for Yazaki to be a permanent fixture, to be a constant in their Olympic dreams. Yazaki, too, seemed eager—he had started to push himself harder, and Rin noticed the slight glean in his eye when they practiced together.

But only Haru was a constant—the coaches knew that; even the swimmers knew. They would be on a relay, and they were inseparable. It was no secret that Haru joined because of Rin, and therefore wouldn’t swim unless Rin was there. They needed to be on the same relay team, or beside each other during individual practice. They were both aware that tides could change, but they all knew it would be that way for as long as they’d be allowed. 

* * *

 

With the increased nights Haru spent at Rin’s apartment, his dorm had become a mere storage closet, a place where he could escape for a few hours when the constant attachment to Rin was overbearing. Rin made no secret of being offended, but Haru often reminded him that they weren’t actually living together.

“Then let’s live together,” Rin said with a shrug.

“But I still have my room.” It was a flimsy excuse, one that Rin didn’t understand enough to counter-argue.

But sometimes they would visit the dorm together, for no other reason than a change of scenery. And it needed a desperate airing out. Rin threw open the windows before sautéing fish in the kitchenette, while Haru went through his backlog of homework and emails. The scent of salmon filled the small room, wafting over Haru’s head as he sat at the table.

“Makoto replied to my email,” Haru said. “He said a lot.”

Most was about Rin—wanting to make sure they were happy. Wondering about the wedding. Haru watched Rin at the tiny stove, trying to cook for two on the single burner. It was easy to picture him at his house in Iwatobi: Wearing an apron so he didn’t mess up his clothes. Bustling around the kitchen preparing his western meals, things he’d learned in Australia. Rin hummed to himself as he sliced up a red pepper.

“You got any sesame oil— never mind, found it!”

 _Rin’s apartment looks really cool!_ Makoto had written. _I see you’ve made yourself at home there. I’m trying to rent a house for next year so I don’t have to live in the dorms. I’m looking at places with a few guys from my classes. I like them—they’re education majors, too, so we have a lot in common._

And it went on. Makoto even included a map of Tokyo, showing how far he’d live in comparison to campus. It was an unnecessary detail, but Haru liked tracing the streets and picturing him walking around with his new friends.

“We should visit Tokyo,” he said suddenly.

“It’s over four hours from here!”

Haru reread the last line of his email: _I hope to hear from you soon!_ “I guess.”

“Hey.” Rin turned off the burner and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “We’ll see Makoto soon, right? Maybe he can stop through here on his way home for summer.”

Haru smiled as he closed his laptop.

Rin didn’t stay after dinner, and it was the first time in nearly two weeks that they’d sleep alone. The quiet of the dorm room was deafening after Rin left. But Haru had homework, and he needed time to reply to Makoto’s email. He spread his work over the table, spilling onto the floor, but lacked motivation. He didn’t care about perspective or still life or the history of Western art. He stared at his closed laptop, then pushed aside his drawings to open it up again. Rin called him as it booted up.

“Didn’t you just get back?” Haru said, glancing at the clock.

“I have the best idea! Let’s start a blog. If we’re going to be famous, we’ve gotta get our names out there now.”

“A blog?”

“It’s this online journal—”

“I know what it _is_.” Public recognition, proclaiming their names over the Internet . . .

“It’s gonna happen anyway, right?” Rin added.

Haru paused as he opened his browser. He followed a few blogs, when he had the time to log on: Iwatobi town, though it seldom updated; Famous Springs Monthly; the regional sports blogs, in case they mentioned swimming. “Okay. But you’ll do most of the updating.”

“Ha! I know that. I’ll set it up now!”

Haru set down the phone. He read Makoto’s email over again before clicking “reply.”

_Makoto—_

_I’m swimming again. I’ve been following Rin’s training regimen. I complain about it, but it’s okay. I never knew how often Rin went to the gym. (Every day for an hour and a half.) I’ve never eaten so much meat._

_Your friends sound nice. I hope you get a house next year because it’s better than living in a dorm. I haven’t been in my room a lot because I’m more comfortable at Rin’s. There’s more space and a bigger kitchen. But maybe if I finished unpacking here it would be better._

_I don’t know what I’m doing about school. I’ve been missing a lot of classes because of training (sorry). I’m not going use an art degree anyway._

_Rin is starting a blog. He’ll probably send you the link when it’s ready (probably tonight)._

_Write back._

_Haru_

It wasn’t until he hit “send” that he realized he hadn’t mentioned the wedding. 

* * *

 

Rin wanted to look at suits. Haru refused, convinced he’d bulk up before August. But he couldn’t argue against browsing for rings—after Rin had convinced him they couldn’t wear _promise rings_ the rest of their lives—scoping out jewelry websites and arguing over a style. Rin wanted something flashy; Haru preferred a plain band.

“We have some time anyway,” Rin said, kissing his cheek.

Their blog was surprisingly popular. After only a week it had five hundred hits; Haru assumed most were family members and the Iwatobi swim team. But Rin was determined to keep it consistently updated. “We have to prove we care about our fans,” he said.

“I think our only fans are Makoto and your mom.”

“It’s a start!” Rin jabbed him in the side. “What about your parents? Do they even know what’s going on in your life?”

Haru heard the unspoken questions: _Do they know you’re engaged? That you’re training for the Olympics?_

His mother had called one night, and he merely filled her in on what she’d asked: Settling fine in Kyoto. The city is different, nothing like Iwatobi. Classes are good.

“Yeah.” He turned back to the computer.

Haru wasn’t surprised that Makoto had replied right away, but suddenly felt uneasy about reading it in front of Rin. He sat at Rin’s table and worked on an essay instead, a small wonder that he could sit cross-legged at all after the innumerable squats from the day’s training. He waited until Rin sank into the bath—he let out a low, satisfied groan as the water splashed—before opening Makoto’s email.

_Haru,_

_You shouldn’t push yourself too hard! You won’t last with both training AND being a full-time student. I would tell you to choose one, but I know what’s more important to you._

_Your mom called me to say hi but didn’t say anything about Rin or your swimming. You haven’t told them, have you? I wish we could talk in person. It’s hard to tell what you’re feeling over email. But I’m worried because you haven’t mentioned getting married at all. Is everything okay? When Rin emails he talks a lot about wedding plans and your Olympic dreams. It sounds like you have to talk to him._

_Rin said I should visit over summer break. I really want to! I miss you guys a lot. I know you’ll be training hard for the championship meet, but I still want to see you. Maybe we can all go out together. (Did you really go to a gay club??)_

_We’ll talk soon. Tell Rin I say hi._

_Makoto_

“You told Makoto we went to a gay club?” Haru said.

Rin splashed around in the tub, like he was struggling to sit up. “You didn’t?”

“I thought he’d disapprove.”

“Yeah, he seems to have a weird idea of what actually happens there.” Rin laughed. “Get in here, babe. I don’t like to shout.”

That was a lie—the apartment was no stranger to Rin shouting—but Haru limped for the bathroom anyway. Rin had squeezed as close to the tub’s edge as possible, patting the surface of the water for Haru to join him. “I can hardly move my thighs,” Haru whined.

“This’ll feel good, then. C’mon.”

The water was still warm. Haru slowly sat down between Rin’s legs, then rested his head back against his shoulder. Rin squeezed his arms around to massage Haru’s quads.

Haru squirmed. “Ow.”

_It sounds like you have to talk to him._

_Not like this_ , Haru thought, as Rin kneaded his sore muscles. Not when he was so close, when Rin’s hands were wandering to the insides of his thighs. Rin’s lips on his neck, the reverberation of his humming on his throat. Haru relaxed, stretching his legs as far as they’d go as Rin massaged down to his knees.

“My husband,” Rin murmured, spreading his hands over Haru’s abdomen.

“Not yet.”

“Mmm.” Rin pulled him closer. “Soon.”

 _Not like this_ , Haru thought, when they went to bed, convincing Rin that an orgasm would help his muscle fatigue. It wasn’t scientifically inaccurate, but Rin didn’t need an excuse to slip a hand between Haru’s legs, nor would he stop Haru from touching him in the same way.

 _Not like this_ , he thought, as Rin closed his eyes for sleep, kissing all over his face. With his damp, mussed hair, and that contented smile on his lips. Haru lay back and took Rin in his arms, allowed him to snuggle to his chest, and he stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sound of traffic outside.

“I love you,” Haru whispered, long after Rin had fallen asleep. 

* * *

 

Haru was late for Thursday’s practice. He’d rushed to campus to hand in a couple assignments, thankfully avoiding his professors by handing them over to the department intern. Even the intern knew he hadn’t been to class—“You’re still a student here?”—but he simply bowed quickly, apologizing for his absence, vowing to himself he’d at least consider withdrawing from the program.

No one was in the pool when he got there. They were crowded around Coach, consulting his clipboard, some giving each other high-fives. Fujioka spotted Haru first. “There you are, Nanase! We have the qualifying roster for the championship meet.”

 _Australia_. Haru choked down the lump in his throat.

“Don’t look so nervous,” Yazaki said, winking as he pulled on his swim cap.

“Haru!” Rin darted across the pool deck, ignoring the coach’s bellowed _“No running!”_ as he leaped up onto him, wrapping his legs around Haru’s waist.

“R-Rin!” The other guys laughed as Haru stumbled backward, flushing as he grabbed onto Rin’s ass lest they crash to the floor.

“We’re going to Australia! We’re swimming together!”

 _Not like this_ , Haru thought, pushing him off, not even caring that Rin kissed him right on the lips in front of everyone. Someone shouted for them to get a room.

“Before you leave,” Coach shouted, “tell me what events you plan to register for. Your practices from now on will be specialized for your event.”

Rin and Fujioka locked eyes right away. They sought out Yazaki, who merely nodded. Haru’s fingers brushed Rin’s back before he headed for the water.

“And don’t forget we’re making repairs to the pool tomorrow,” Coach added, “so you all have a free day.” No one heard Haru’s grumbling beneath the sounds of cheers. “But no slacking off!”

Haru didn’t stop swimming all through practice. He completed one hundred meters, and didn’t pause before going another lap. He flipped over and over, pushing his endurance, aware of Rin in the lane beside him. His muscles didn’t tire, not like they used to. When he finally popped out of the pool Coach was standing at his lane and watching his timer.

“You just swam eight hundred meters.”

Haru stared up at him. “Yeah.”

“Good time.”

He shrugged. But he _had_ to pay attention to times now.

Rin was better at faster spurts; he registered for the fifty- and one hundred-meter fly. Haru wanted only the four hundred-meter free for individual, in addition to their medley relay.

“What about the one-hundred meter free?” Rin asked, when they got to the lockers.

_Don’t register for the same events as me. I won’t swim against you._

“I wanted something different,” he simply replied.

“You’ve got some practicing to do, then,” Rin said. “You’ve never done four hundred competitively.”

Haru smirked as he zipped his bag closed.

“You wanna go out tonight?” Rin asked. 

* * *

 

To Rin’s surprise, it took little convincing. Haru had selected clothes from his own closet—the same jeans as before, paired with a fitted T-shirt—though wanted to steal Rin’s accessories, having developed a liking for the water-like pendant he’d sported before.

“I need to get you your own,” Rin said, kissing Haru’s neck as he clasped the chain around it.

Even when they entered Sidetracks, the competition was in the forefront of their minds. Following practice, Haru had created a list of every competition he wanted them to compete in over the next two years. He’d pushed an empty canvas off his table to make room for his laptop, searching the national swimming website for everything they could feasibly attend.

And Rin began to flood his email inbox, even though they saw each other every day. He wanted his opinion on a date for the wedding; he wanted to know which chapel he liked best. Should they honeymoon on the Gold Coast, or did Haru want to go to Sydney? Should they wear black suits or white? They had to start looking now, and buy their rings, and . . .

Rin grabbed him around the waist on the dance floor. “You’re distracted,” he said, mouth pressed to Haru’s ear.

Haru held him close, closing his eyes, his mouth brushing Rin’s ear in return. He felt a shudder rip beneath Rin’s skin. “It’s not a dream anymore,” he whispered.

Rin buried his face in Haru’s neck.

A hard day of practice had left them unbearably sore, so they spent most of the evening on the balcony. Haru had an endless supply of water, and Rin his fruit juices. Though they found adequate space on a couch Haru still slung his legs across Rin’s lap, snuggling against him like they were alone.

“Haru.” Rin spoke beside his ear like they whispered secrets, but it was the only way to hear each other over the pounding music. “I figured it out—we won’t have time to get married before the competition, but we can stay in Australia the week after. It won’t cut into practice time, and we’ll have plenty of time until—”

“Rin.” Haru grasped his hand, too hard, and Rin sat bolt upright. _Not like this_ , Haru thought, the fear already wide in Rin’s eyes. He kissed Rin’s cheek, as if to lessen the blow. “Do we have to now?”

“Huh?”

Haru looked around: Empty glasses littering the tables, bare-chested servers in suspenders milling around other patrons. Men twined together on couches, wandering hands, sweaty skin from dancing and physical contact.

“I’m hot,” Haru said, downing the rest of his water. “I need air.”

Rin held his hand on the way out, his motions stiff. Haru gripped that hand like he’d never release it, like it was the only thing holding them together. The air outside wasn’t as cool as he’d hoped; it did little to alleviate the sweat that coated their bodies. They walked farther down the block, away from the crowd milling about the door—less chance of eavesdroppers.

Rin spoke first, as if there’d been no break in conversation. “You don’t want to marry me?” His hand went limp, but Haru wouldn’t release it. Rin didn’t try to pull away but his body slumped, his limbs fluid like he’d melt away if Haru wasn’t right there, keeping his physical form together.

“It’s too soon,” Haru finally said, fighting to maintain eye contact.

He couldn’t keep hold to Rin anymore. He didn’t put up a fight when Rin slipped his hand from his grasp, slowly, like he was waiting for Haru to change his mind.

“Why now?” Rin whispered. “Why did you even say yes?”

Haru stared at his feet. He wore Rin’s sneakers, black shoes with a shine to them, ones that would never be used for athletics. “I want to,” he said, staring at those shoes, “but not right now.”

“Then when, Haru? _When?_ ”

Rin didn’t give him enough time. His mind was still conjuring an answer as Rin turned away, hesitating before he moved.

“Don’t leave,” Haru said, finally looking up.

He recognized the tremble of Rin’s shoulders. The way he clenched his fists, biceps bulging, his head lowered. The rush of passing traffic drowned out his words, but Haru could see his jaw move before he started to run.

“What?”

Haru bolted after him, back to the club, pushing through the crowd to get inside.

_“Rin!”_

The cluster of people outside felt dense. Haru had to elbow through them, the door already slammed shut behind Rin. When he got back inside he frantically searched the crowd, seeking that shock of red hair, but he wasn’t on the dance floor. He wasn’t at the bar. Haru pushed past people to get upstairs, rushing around the balcony’s perimeter, searching but unable to see anything.

“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice was suddenly beckoning him. “Hey, hold on!”

Haru whipped around.

“You’re with the redhead, right?”

He squinted. Maybe he recognized the guy—someone who’d been sitting near them on the couches earlier, before Haru had fucked everything up. He nodded.

“He’s in the back,” the guy said, pointing to a dark corner. “You guys all right?”

“I . . .” Haru swiped the sweat from his eyes.

“Hey, man, it’s okay. He’s worth it, right?” The guy gently nudged his shoulder. “Go get him.”

It was like the sea parted, the swarm of men feeling the radiating desperation, urging him to _go get him_. He spotted Rin’s hair first; his dark clothes were shrouded in shadow. He sat by himself at a low table, furiously texting, his hair plastered to his face and his cheeks damp with tears.

“Rin!” He didn’t try to escape when Haru sat down, but hastily shoved his phone into his pants pocket. “Rin, I want to marry you.” He grabbed his hands, kissing them furiously, kissing his fingers and his palms and his wrists.

“This is our chance.” Rin’s voice was barely audible over the music. “And you don’t want to.”

“Don’t you want everyone there? Your mom, and Gou, and our friends?”

Rin’s eyes wandered the empty table, seeking something that wasn’t there. A server approached, but Haru shook his head and he disappeared again.

“I love you.” Haru kissed his palm again, and Rin’s fingers curled slightly around his cheek. “This isn’t our only chance.”

When they returned to Rin’s apartment, Haru helped him out of his clothes. Rin was unresponsive to his touch, to the kisses on his bare skin, to the gentle way Haru eased him into bed. But he was desperate to make love; Rin lay back without a fight, insisting he was ready when Haru knew he wasn’t. Rin grit his teeth, clawing at Haru’s back, and Haru moved slowly, hyperaware of each twitch of Rin’s body. They didn’t talk—Haru rarely did, but Rin was empty of his usual bedside chatter. His tears were not of pain or joy but a cry that Haru never wanted to relive, one of loss and desperation. He kissed his lips, kissed the tears from his eyes, whispering _“I love you”_ over and over again.

Afterward, neither could sleep.

They lay in bed, back to back, pretending to sleep while knowing the other wasn’t. Rin had stopped crying but he was facing the wall of wedding plans, and it was too late for Haru to request switching sides. He thought of that wall, those endless notes, photos of suits and chapels, of waterfalls that Rin thought he would like. Haru squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his thumb on the back of his promise ring.

“Haru.”

He quickly flopped to his back, but Rin was still turned to the wall. Haru stared at his profile, the dampness still clinging to the corner of his eyes.

“I love you, Haru.”

He nestled to Rin’s back, sliding a hand across his chest. He kissed the nape of his neck, Rin’s hair tickling his nose. It was a relief when his body relaxed, when Rin threaded their fingers together, and finally settled into his soft breathing that meant he’d fallen asleep. Haru kissed his shoulder and closed his eyes, but couldn’t sleep himself.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! So sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been apartment searching and I just started a new job, so real life is a little hectic. I promise to get back to a regular schedule, though. ILU all ♥

Haru didn’t have to open his eyes to know the other side of the bed was empty. He’d grown used to being jolted awake by Rin flopping onto the bed, dragging his arm or leg to get him up and running.

When he finally opened his eyes, he woke to a note on Rin’s pillow that simply said he’d be back soon.

Haru regretted looking at the Australia collage. Most had been taken down—the lists and the wedding plans, their ring and suit options—leaving only the calendar with the championship countdown, a few photos of nature trails and natural water basins. Haru flinched, like he’d been slapped.

He got up, made breakfast, and—when Rin still hadn’t returned—left Rin’s portion on the table and took a bath.

He wanted to go back to the dorm, but he needed to see Rin. He couldn’t have him return to an empty apartment, to a lonely breakfast and a bedroom with his lingering scent. But as he sat in the tub, sunk down to his ears, he breathed a sigh of relief when the front door creaked open.

“Haru?” His voice was too loud, magnified by the small apartment.

“I’m in the bath.”

Rin slid open the bathroom door just enough to poke his head in. He looked as relieved as Haru felt, like he hadn’t expected him to be there. Haru looked down at the water.

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” Rin said.

Haru stared at his knees as he dipped them beneath the water. “I was cooking anyway.”

Rin waited a beat, opened his mouth like he had something more to say, but his “Thanks” fell hollow. He slid the bathroom door closed. Haru listened to him move around the apartment—to his bedroom, where he’d shed his sweaty clothes; the creak of the wardrobe door, where he flipped through hangers; then to the living room, where he plopped on the floor, presumably at the table. Haru yanked the stopper and got out, dripping wet, and pulled on a pair of Rin’s shorts. He hardly looked at Rin as he head to the kitchen counter for a cup of tea.

“Those shorts look ridiculous on you,” Rin said, forcing a laugh. Haru tugged up the elastic waistband before sitting at the table.

“They’re comfortable.”

In twelve hours the past two years seemed to vanish, the comfortable silence and the inherent knowledge of the other’s emotions. Rin ate in silence as Haru sipped his tea. A current connected them—that perpetual red string—but it was faint, limp, and threadbare. When Rin looked up he was startled that Haru was watching him, like he’d forgotten he was there.

“Haru . . . do you still want to swim with me?”

His voice lost the juvenile edge of the previous night, laced instead with a desperate honesty. Through their current he knew that Rin truly believed the answer to be in the negative, that everything he’d known of Haru was nothing he’d known before.

“Is that why you went running without me?” Haru asked.

It was Rin’s turn to look away, slowly chewing his meat. “I had to think,” he answered honestly.

Haru set down his teacup. “Do you want to swim with _me_?”

Anyone else would’ve missed Rin’s slight whimper, the deep uncertainty when he wouldn’t look up—but Haru caught the crinkled corners of his eyes, a desire so deep he couldn’t put it into words.

Rin, speechless.

Instinctively, Haru looked to Rin’s hand. He was calmed by the sight of his ring, and he reached out to hold it. They both stared at their twining hands and Haru slid over to kiss Rin’s cheek, that one kiss the required promise that maybe not all had changed.

“Rin.” Haru kept a firm hold on his hand. “I’m going home for a few days.”

“No.” Rin shook his head. “Don’t do this, Haru.”

He swallowed hard. Rin held on tighter, nearly crushing his hand. “Do you know how hard this is?” Haru asked. “I can’t adjust like you do, Rin. I need to go back.”

“Then promise me something.” Rin turned to sit face-to-face and held his shoulders, searching his blank expression. He tentatively advanced, waiting for Haru to deny him, but he accepted Rin’s kiss—soft, warm, the spark still flaming beneath. “You’ll come back.”

He nodded. “I want to swim with you.” 

* * *

 

Haru tried to convince Rin he didn’t need to be accompanied to the train station. But that afternoon, when they’d ordinarily be at practice, they took the long walk to Kyoto Station. Rin carried Haru’s bag, though Haru had to admit it was easier that way—he had to carry his art case, too, finally accepting that he would no longer need all his canvases.

Rin felt better, too, seeing Haru pack some of his art supplies. Sliding those blank canvases into their carrying case had been the confirmation Rin needed. Haru kept his sketchbooks, and deliberately left one at Rin’s apartment, too—one filled with the water and some sketches of Rin himself. Haru hoped he’d snoop through it.

“Tell me what time you’re coming back in,” Rin said when they reached the station, “and I’ll meet you.”

He promised. Rin walked with him as long as he could, to the waiting room, watching the electronic displays that would announce his track. Rin still held to Haru’s bag, clutching the strap firmly in both hands. Even when the display changed, when Haru knew he had to make his way to track five, Rin hesitated in handing it over.

A surge of travelers flooded into the gate as Rin rested the bag on Haru’s shoulder, readjusting it and setting it just so before stepping away. Haru touched the strap where Rin’s hands had just been, then pulled him into a hug.

“Call me when you get home,” Rin said, like a parent would, or a faithful spouse. Haru smiled and offered a small wave before heading for the train.

The ride home felt longer. He tried reading a book, but realized he remembered nothing about the last five pages. He tried to nap, leaning his head on the window, but there were loud talkers behind him who kept on kicking his seat. Haru frowned, scrolling through his text messages instead, even though there was nothing new. He wished he had one of those fancy phones with Internet access so he could read the blog, even though he’d read Rin’s most recently post that morning. He was due to update himself, too.

He smelled the ocean before he saw it, with each stop closer to Iwatobi. When he finally arrived he nearly ran off the train, marveling over the clean, salt-scented air. He’d gotten used to the crowded, dirty city, finding his hometown a literal breath of fresh air. He hiked his bag onto his shoulder and took the slow walk home.

The house felt unnaturally quiet. Haru walked it slowly, like he expected something to have changed, but the only difference was a fine layer of dust. Rin had forgotten a book on his headboard— _Thirty Years of Olympic Gold_ —and Haru held it to his chest as he sat on the bed.

He felt hollow, an unfulfilled loneliness despite the surrounding comfort of home. He smelled the book, hoping for traces of Rin, but only sensed dust and old paper.

In high school he’d never felt a true fondness for Iwatobi—it was merely where he lived—but now he pulled on his old swim club jacket and walked around town, taking in the familiar sights. Automatically he turned toward the high school, though school had long since closed its doors for the day.

“Haru-nii-san?”

He stopped in his tracks. Haru automatically reached for a backpack that wasn’t there, grabbling for an invisible strap. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets instead as he turned, relieved to see a smile on Gou’s face. If she was concerned about Haru walking Iwatobi alone, she didn’t show it.

She wore the swim club uniform with white shorts, carrying her schoolbag. The bag dropped to the ground as she leaped onto him, hugging him tight, and he stumbled as he tried to keep his balance.

“Onii-chan said you were coming home for the weekend! I knew you’d try to get into the pool.”

“I . . .” He looked in the direction of the pool, which he hadn’t known he’d been following. “He told you?”

She giggled. “Yeah. Want me to unlock the gate for you? Mom won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Gou disappeared into the locker room when Haru jumped into the pool. He was surprised when she reemerged in a one-piece suit, her hair shoved into a swim cap, flushing slightly as she climbed down the pool’s ladder.

“You swim?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, paddling to the pool’s edge. “Rei-kun insisted on teaching me.”

“How’s he as captain?”

“He’s intense! But he’s really good, especially with the new recruits.”

Haru wanted to see her swim. She claimed she wasn’t very good, but her freestyle had perfect form. He studied her return, dipping beneath the water to watch as she passed.

“Good,” he said, drifting toward her. “Let me show you something.”

It was easy teaching Gou. She knew more about muscles than he did, so she understood his directions. He demonstrated his arm rotation, traced the muscle in her arm where she should feel it. She nodded enthusiastically, eager to try again. She was slightly faster the second time and he smiled, watching her pause before kicking off the wall to come back. Gou was panting when she finished but she grinned, pulling herself up to sit and dangle her feet in the water.

“Want to come over for dinner?” Gou pulled off her swim cap, her red hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Mom’s cooking mackerel.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You planned that.”

She looked away as she smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Despite the time he’d spent away from the Matsuoka home, the place hadn’t changed at all. It felt like there’d been no time between his departure and that moment, like his time in Kyoto had ceased to exist. If not for the absence of Rin, Haru might have believed it to be true.

Rin’s mother bombarded him with hugs the moment he walked through the door, leaving wet kisses on his cheeks. She wanted him to crash in Rin’s room for the night, but he politely declined. She pouted, but was satisfied enough to set another place at the kitchen table.

Between Gou and her mother, Haru didn’t have to talk much. Not only because of their constant chatter—just listening to their rapid-fire conversation was exhausting—but they knew everything about their training, anyway, from reading the blog. Their only complaint was the lack of photographs, which Haru promised to rectify as soon as he could. It made him realize that they _hadn’t_ taken any recent photos together, not since Haru first arrived in Rin’s apartment—Rin had needed to immortalize that day, turning the camera around to get a crooked shot of them both in his first place.

Haru slumped and looked down at his plate.

“Haru?” Rin’s mom set a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything all right?”

Gou was sitting across from him, watching as she chewed. They both caught the quiver of his chin, and he didn’t even need to cry for their mother to burst into action, scraping her chair across the floor and throwing her arms around his shoulders. Gou only watched, frozen in place, her chopsticks halfway between her mouth and the plate.

“Rin told me what happened,” his mother admitted, cradling Haru’s head against her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. Everything will be okay.”

He peered at Gou through the smothering of her mother’s arms, but she was staring at her plate as she pushed food around. She could have said something at the pool, and Haru was grateful that she hadn’t. He closed his eyes.

“Maybe I _will_ stay over,” he said, and squeaked when she hugged him tighter.

He slept well that night—surprisingly well. His body was trained to wake at six o’clock, and it seemed too much trouble to fight it. He found some of Rin’s running clothes in the wardrobe and left a note on the kitchen table before going out.

The morning air was cool but it felt good to breathe it in, and soon enough his body was coated in sweat. It was harder jogging in the country—he’d grown used to flat city roads and empty morning sidewalks—and his lungs were burning when he returned, unaccustomed to hills and unpaved paths.

Rin’s mother was in the kitchen. “After your bath,” she said, “there’s breakfast.” It smelled exactly like Rin’s apartment, even sounded the same as his mother whisked something at the counter. Haru's legs trembled with overexertion as he climbed the stairs.

“Gou,” he said, peeking into her bedroom. She was still in pajamas, her hair unbound and unbrushed as she sat up in bed. “Will you come out with me today? I have things to do.”

Her face brightened through a half-sleep haze. “Of course, Haru-nii!”

He didn’t need the companionship, but he owed Gou that much—she didn’t complain about taking a detour by the beach, where Haru removed his shoes to walk the shoreline. Gou joined in, too, and Haru smiled as she squealed over the cold water. They sat on a bench, absorbing the sun’s first warmth of the season, wiggling their toes and trying not to touch the sand as their feet dried.

She didn’t complain about going into the city, either, taking the train just so they could stop by Sports Zero. It felt small now, compared to the shop in Kyoto—and he knew now that some of their stock was off-season—but it was like home. Some of the employees recognized him, welcoming him back, and even the manager approached asking if he was, in fact, Haruka Nanase.

He blanched. The manager chuckled, admitting that he followed their blog. They were somewhat of local celebrities already, he claimed, small-town boys with big Olympic dreams.

“Please don’t tell me he wrote that,” Haru groaned.

“No, nothing like that!” The manager laughed. “Just the word around town, that’s all.”

Later, Gou accompanied him to the market, as he needed to stock his fridge for the next couple days. He knew the Matsuokas would have preferred he stay with them, but his time in Iwatobi was his—a need for home, for a clearing of his mind and the salty ocean air.

Though Gou lived in the complete opposite direction, she walked with him back to the house. “Thanks,” he said, standing at the foot of the stairs. “It was nice hanging out.”

He expected a quick hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, but Gou held him a long time. Haru was surprised how similar it felt to Rin’s—that little nestle against his shoulder, her smaller arms clinging around his waist the same way.

“I know my brother is stubborn,” she said, as she backed away, “but you were right. I— we want to be there, too, when you get married. We want to share in your happiness.”

“It’s not just that,” Haru admitted, staring at his grocery bags.

“I know.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I think Onii-chan knows that, too.” She skipped off, waving over her shoulder. He touched the impression of her kiss as he turned for home.

Haru enjoyed his solitude, though missed the whining that was associated with his cooking mackerel. He sat in the bath until the water was cold, waiting for the rattle of the door asking how long he planned to be in there. His bedroom was mostly empty, his closet bare; he stored his portfolio in the back for when he’d need it. He brought a sketchbook to bed, turning to an abandoned assignment on perspective. Though he didn’t plan to attend further classes—he still had to inform the school of that—he continued to sketch out the unfinished drawing of Rin’s apartment.

He drew until dark, trying to capture every little detail—the photo collage on the fridge; the way the bathroom door hung crooked on its track. He began to draw Rin seated at the table, a bowl of noodles in front of him, when his phone rang. It was nearly midnight.

“Rin?”

His heart dropped at the unfamiliar voice. “No, uh . . . Haru, is it?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m sorry, you don’t even know me. I have Rin here, and he’s pretty drunk.”

His sketchbook dropped to the floor. “Rin is . . . what?”

“We’re at Sidetracks. Can you come get him? He’s having a rough time.”

“No, I’m not there.” He closed his eyes. Music pounded in the background over the phone, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses and—what he thought—Rin shouting. He ran through the small mental list of everyone he knew in Kyoto, or maybe there was a train back now; no, that didn’t make sense—

“Haru? Still there?”

“Yes. Sorry.” He spoke without thinking, before he could regret it. “Check his contacts. Is there Yazaki?” There was a pause before the guy came back, confirming his number, and Haru vowed to call right back. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he dialed Yazaki. He wasn’t even sure he’d pick up, they’d never exchanged numbers . . .

“Hello?” He sounded awake or, at least, not woken from a sound sleep.

“Yazaki? It’s Haruka Nanase.”

“Nanase? What’s going on?”

 _Damn you, Rin. This is so awkward._ He took a deep breath. “C-Can you do me a favor? Rin is drunk. I’m . . . not in Kyoto.”

“Huh?” There was a rustle of what Haru assumed was bed sheets. “Yeah, I can get him. Where is he?”

Haru pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples. “Sidetracks.”

Yazaki paused. “Yeah. Sure, okay.” He _insisted_ it was all right—he sounded genuine enough—and he called Rin’s number back to confirm with the mystery guy at the club. They’d meet Yazaki outside. Rin shouted Haru’s name in the background, and Haru said it was fine to put him on.

“Rin, what are you doing?”

“I was stupid,” he slurred, his voice cracking. “I miss you Haru and I was stupid and I’m never drinking again.”

“Good.”

“Someone tried to kiss me but I told him no and I’m getting married. Are we still getting married?”

“Someone . . .” Haru clenched the bed sheets in his fist. “Yes.”

“Good, ’cause I’d feel bad if I lied and I’m not a liar.”

His voice faded as the phone was pried from his hands, someone saying “all right, buddy” as Rin proclaimed his love. “Sorry, Haru. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

He didn’t sleep. He gripped his phone, waiting for the call. Yazaki texted when he arrived at the club (“the guys are really nice!”), then called when they reached Rin’s apartment. Rin was half asleep by then, crying over how much he wanted to swim with Haru.

Haru slumped in his bed as Yazaki relayed the conversation.

“He’s not gonna remember it,” Yazaki said, “so don’t sweat it.”

“ _You_ will.”

Yazaki laughed it off, though it didn’t make Haru feel any better. 

* * *

 

He caught a train back early the next morning. He didn’t tell Rin he was coming back early, and Rin didn’t call him the following morning. He either forget the entire situation, as Haru hoped, or was brooding at home. Either way, Haru rushed to the apartment as soon as he got off the train. He pounded on his door. “Rin?”

His suspicion was confirmed—there was a scratch of the table across the floor, an “oww!” as Rin banged into it. “Haru?” He opened the door.

Rin leaned on the doorframe. His hair was mussed over his face, dark circles beneath his eyes. He wore a T-shirt and trunks—no pants—and a look of pure terror. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what you look like.”

“Shit. But”—Haru nudged him over to get inside—”What’s today?”

_“Sunday.”_

Rin leaned his head on the wall with a groan.

“Sit down,” Haru said, putting on the kettle. He eyed the glass on the table. “That’s water, right?”

“I’m not stupid.”

Haru frowned at him.

“Never mind.” Rin plopped down to the table, rubbing his head.

Haru dug a small jar from his overnight bag, dumping its contents into the bottom of a mug. Rin covered his ears when the kettle whistled, and though Haru was tempted to keep it on longer he turned off the gas.

“What’s that?” Rin asked, as Haru set the mug in front of him.

“Peppermint and ginger root.”

Rin scrunched his nose, but put his face over the steaming mug. “Just yell at me now.”

“You did that yourself already, right?” Rin nodded. “I won’t bother.”

Rin picked up the mug, sipping the scalding hot liquid.

“But tell me why,” Haru added.

He set the mug down, so carefully that it didn’t make a noise. He switched to the glass of cold water, finishing it off, and Haru refilled it at the sink. “I don’t know, Haru. I wanted to go out, and I asked the bartender what I should get. Guess he thought I could hold my liquor.”

“You were that bad over _one_ drink?” Haru handed him the glass.

Rin looked away. “And some shots.”

Haru scowled. “And you kissed someone.”

“No!” Rin winced at the volume of his own voice. “No. He wanted to. But no kisses.”

Haru made them toast. He wanted to eat something substantial himself, but just the smell of meat from the fridge made Rin gag. He drew a hot bath as Rin forced down his breakfast, which he wasn’t even sure would help. But Rin sighed, content, as they both settled into the water, leaning back against the comfort of Haru’s body. He couldn’t stay angry—Rin draped his arms around his knees, snuggling against him, and would tilt his head back for Haru to kiss his forehead.

“I get it,” Rin said, as Haru traced circles on his shoulder. “We have our whole lives together, right? Why didn’t you tell me I was being stupid?”

He kissed Rin’s shoulder. “I wanted to think it wasn’t stupid.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he said, sliding down to his chin.

“But I’ve already said yes.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m doing it right next time.”

Haru dried him off when they got out, gently toweling his hair as Rin sat on the edge of the tub. “Wait here,” Haru said, as he went to the bedroom to find his laze-about clothes. Though Rin was capable of dressing himself, he lifted his arms and allowed Haru to fit the oversized T-shirt over his head.

“Are you mad?” Rin asked, as Haru knelt to help him into his shorts.

“I’m pissed. But that doesn’t help, does it?”

After Rin wiggled into the shorts he drew Haru closer, kissing the crown of his head and combing his fingers through his damp hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but Haru shook his head, pulled Rin’s face down, and kissed him. That kiss was a promise—more than their absent marriage vows—the only way Haru knew to show that everything would be fine.

Rin slept most of the afternoon. Though Haru could have gone to the swim club, he stayed. He closed the bedroom door where Rin dozed and phoned the school, informing them that he didn’t plan to return. They wanted him to come in and talk to administration, to fill out some forms. He texted Yazaki again to thank him. He emailed Makoto, leaving out nothing.

“Socializing is exhausting,” he mumbled, reading over the two-page email to his best friend.

He didn’t want to cook, in case Rin was still sensitive to everything, so he ordered delivery. He sat by the open window as he ate noodle soup, disgruntled over the imitation seafood. But it was a small sacrifice.

He’d left a folder for Rin on the table and when he emerged from his nap—looking somewhat better rested—and his eyes immediately fell on it. “What’s this?” He sat at the table, slowly opening it to flip through the papers. He read the enclosed letter, then rummaged through the pamphlets. Haru betrayed a small smile when the recognition flashed. Rin looked up, holding the letter in both hands, eye wide in awe. “Is this . . . ?”

“I went yesterday.”

“Haru . . . you got us a _sponsor_.”

Sports Zero had agreed right away. The moment the manager recognized him, Haru knew they’d accept. Rin ripped through the folder, laughing despite his headache, reading over the rules and responsibilities. They couldn’t offer much, as Rin and Haru hadn’t yet competed nationally, but their current records were enough, already rivaling those of national swimmers.

“We have a fucking _sponsor_.” Rin lunged over the table for him, toppling them both to the floor. He laughed as they kissed, his mouth sour with sleep. He sat up to go through the papers again. “And what’s _this_?” he asked, holding a typewritten note on yellowed paper.

“Komi’s Fish Market. They’ll give us a little.”

“Please don’t tell me this is where you buy your mackerel.”

Haru pouted. “He said I’m a faithful customer.”

Rin was never good with holding back his tears. He carefully set the paper back on the table, fingers lingering on the corner of the letter. When Haru hugged him again the tears silently slid down Rin’s cheeks, dripping onto Haru’s T-shirt as he held on as if for dear life.

“It’s happening,” Rin said, digging his nails into Haru’s back. “It’s really happening.”


	7. Chapter 7

With the dedication of striving for a lifelong dream, there’s no sense of time. And despite the countless hours training and the constant push to swim harder, run faster, and lift more, that dream finally felt real with having their first sponsor. The months flew by. Between training, swimming, and the occasional off-day—very occasional; Haru had to urge Rin to take a break—they registered for events and had conference calls with their sponsors. They had professional headshots taken to clip to registration forms. (Haru was bitter that Rin’s shot was perfect the first time, but he couldn’t get his own pout just right.) Their blog was an overnight sensation as their names became public, the barely-out-of-high-school boys aiming to go to Rio. There were critics—it would be easy to wait for Japan in 2020, they’d say—but Rin fought back with his own blog posts, reminding the world of their records and how easily they could beat international swimmers.

Haru finally dropped most of his university classes, officially enrolled in only one—Drawing 101. He submitted his assignments and occasionally made an appearance in class, but it was all for one purpose: to keep his dorm room. Rin continued to mention how it would be easier to live together, but Haru remained silent on the matter. He’d return to his dorm to do laundry, or to have a few hours by himself before practice. He’d sit on the small balcony and watch the students pass below, wondering why he couldn’t force himself into Rin’s living space so easily.

It wasn’t fear necessarily, but the prospect of officially sharing their living quarters was daunting. Rin didn’t seem to understand that Haru _liked_ his space. He’d never understood that simple concept, even as a kid. Haru was so used to living alone that it was strange to be held accountable, like having to tell someone when he was leaving—Rin freaked out when Haru would disappear without notice—or wait for the shower in the morning.

He had to admit, though, that it was nice sleeping beside him every night, and eating meals together, and not having to wait for Rin to come over when he was in the mood . . .

 

In the little free time he had, Haru began to teach classes at the swim club as well. Though instructors weren’t paid handsomely, he enjoyed teaching the kids and receiving a paycheck. He wouldn’t outwardly admit it to Rin, but it was impossible to ignore the fact they were just scraping by. Rin’s mom would sometimes send a check, when she had extra money, and Sports Zero couldn’t be generous until Rin and Haru had competed in bigger competitions. As a result they didn’t go out often; they bargained shopped at the markets, and if they went to the nightclub—there was no cover charge—they only drank water. (At least Haru had stopped sniffing Rin’s glass when he thought he wasn’t looking, even though Rin noticed every time.)

There was a smaller swim competition in Kyoto, where Rin placed first in the one hundred-meter fly and Haru second in the two hundred-meter free. Their relay team—joined by Yazaki and Fujioka—rivaled times at the national level. Sports Zero gave them a little more with those victories, and even Komi's sent money for new swimsuits. They also received a letter on official Samezuka Academy letterhead, which offered to purchase their plane tickets to Australia. Even Haru couldn’t hold back his joy, though he blamed his teary eyes on the onions he'd prepared with dinner. Included in the envelope was a handwritten note from Aiichiro, whom Rin was certain had a hand in the offer.

“I’ve got to email that kid,” he said, affixing the note to the fridge.

Haru was a difficult swim instructor, but the kids latched onto him. They knew of his affinity for freestyle, and even the youngest ones would tease that he didn't know anything else.

“I know _how_ ,” he'd say defensively, and they’d burst into giggles.

If Rin was there after lessons—which he was, most of the time—their students wanted to see them race, and they kept a running tally of who was winning. Each claimed they didn’t want to know the final score, but each also called that week’s scorekeeper aside behind the other’s back.

But one night after practice Haru insisted on returning to his dorm; they were both exhausted, and Rin didn't even have the strength to protest. Besides, there was mackerel in the fridge that probably wouldn't last another day and a new issue of Famous Springs Monthly waiting for him, which it was impossible to win against. The dorm was blissfully quiet when he arrived, as most students were in the cafeteria, and Haru threw open a window to welcome the warm breeze. 

* * *

It didn’t make _sense_ that Haru wanted to be alone all the time. Rin stood outside his dorm room, fidgeting with the strap of his shoulder bag. He knew the door would be unlocked—Haru never locked it when he was in there—and all he had to do was turn the knob and let himself in . . .

When Rin poked his head in Haru looked up from the table, where he sat reading a magazine. He smiled, which meant he wasn’t annoyed by the unannounced visit. Rin pecked his cheek before sitting across the table.

Neither of them said a lot. Rin had a copy of Monthly Muscle in his bag, which he silently began to read. It hadn't been planned that way—Rin didn't intend to go all the way there to read a _magazine—_ but Haru seemed to neither mind nor notice as he returned to his own reading. It was quiet, almost domestic. Like they didn’t have to constantly one-up each other, or force conversation.

Haru interrupted his train of thought. “Rin.”

It was that firm declaration of his name, his way of introduction into something either profound or exceedingly stupid.

“Yeah?”

He slid Famous Springs Monthly across the table, turning it around for Rin to see it properly. His hand lingered on the page, like he was hesitant to fully hand it over. “Don’t bend the pages.”

“I’m not gonna bend the pages, jeez.” He touched just the corner of the magazine to slide it closer, studying the spread before him. He couldn’t deny that it was beautiful—Australia’s Gold Coast, an area of the country he hadn't visited before, and one they'd soon visit for the championship meet. The photos bragged of its nature trails, mountain views, and . . . waterfalls.

“We can swim there,” Haru said.

Internally Rin scoffed at his water fetish, at his one-track mind. But to look upon those photographs, with the angle of the sun overhead, the water pouring into the crystal clear pools below . . .

“Yeah,” Rin whispered, as Haru moved to his side of the table. He rested his chin on Rin’s shoulder to admire the photographs, eyes locked on Australia’s natural wonders and hands sneaking under the hem of Rin’s T-shirt. “Yeah, we’ll go.” He closed the magazine carefully, ensuring that none of the pages were marred in the process. “Haru . . .”

He lifted his head. “Hmm?”

“This is stupid.” He swept an arm over the room. “Why are you avoiding living with me?”

Haru sat upright. He avoided his eyes but stared at Rin's chest instead, at the too-snug shirt hugging his muscles. He hadn’t bought new clothes since bulking up again, and even the hem around the sleeves had started to fray. Rin glanced at Haru’s clothes, too. He smiled a little to see the old T-shirt of Rin's that no longer fit, Haru's new muscles filling it out in ways his shirts hadn't fit before.

 _Focus, Rin_ , he thought, looking back up at his face. “You have to talk to me, Haru.”

“I’m scared!” he blurted.

The shock flashed across both their faces. Haru’s faded sooner as he looked away but Rin continued to stare open-mouthed, focused on the little pout Haru tried to conceal.

“Of _me_?” he said.

Haru shook his head, his fringe whipping over his forehead. “It’s so final. And you’re . . . exhausting.”

It wasn’t anything Rin didn’t already know—the way Haru would shut down when Rin was overbearing. How when they went to the club, he’d take frequent breaks from the dance floor. It wasn’t entirely his need for water, though that was a solid aspect of his personality; it was his need for solitude, his means of escape.

“How about this?” Rin said. “A trial run. You’re gonna have to leave this dorm eventually. Stay with me. If it’s terrible, we’ll get you your own place. Or we’ll partition the apartment. I’ll sleep on the balcony. Whatever.”

Haru fought back a smile. “That won’t work when we’re married.”

Neither had mentioned the marriage in months. Rin had stayed true to his word—he didn’t push it, and he still vowed to start over again. But Haru had made it clear that the promise still stood in his mind.

“So that’s why we try now, right?”

It was settled: They moved the last of Haru’s belongings to the apartment. He had his own corner in the living room that Rin vowed never to invade—a low bookshelf by the window, a cushion to sit and sketch, or read, or do whatever he did when they weren’t swimming. He already had his own shelf in the fridge, but only because Rin refused to touch the mackerel.

In the beginning, Rin kept his distance. He’d sit at the table with his laptop while Haru sketched in his corner, but it was Haru who gradually moved closer. He’d sit catty-corner at the table, spreading his sketchbook out, stretching his foot to touch Rin’s beneath the table. Whatever Rin was doing at the time, whether it was researching meets or updating the blog, he’d get distracted. He’d watch Haru instead, mesmerized by the scene played out in his sketchbook. He recognized most of his sketches, as they often resembled either himself or some body of water.

“Oi, Haru,” he said, turning back to his laptop. “You have to post on this blog sometime. People are asking about you.”

Haru peered up. He hadn’t updated in weeks, but Rin said most of the important things, anyway. He set aside his sketchbook and turned to his shelf for his laptop, but at that moment his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Rin lifted an eyebrow. “Who’s that?” he asked. “Your other boyfriend?”

“Don’t say things like that,” Haru said, checking his phone. “It’s Makoto.”

Rin smirked. “So I was right.”

“His term is over,” he said, ignoring the jibe as he showed Rin the message. “He’s going home next week.”

“Tell him to come visit!” 

* * *

 It was strange for Haru to be at Kyoto Station, waiting for the train that would bring Makoto to his new little world. He couldn’t sit still. He paced the waiting area as Rin watched the arrivals board, like that would make the train come faster. They’d gone out beforehand to buy some properly-fitting clothes—Haru didn’t want to meet Makoto in Rin’s old rejects—and he picked at the hem of his new yellow-and-white striped shirt, feeling both stylish and foreign in the city he’d come to know as a second home.

When his gate was announced they bustled around the track's exit, watching the exodus of Kyoto-bound travelers from points beyond. Makoto wasn’t hard to spot, his head above the rest as he frantically searched for his friends. Rin raised both arms to wave, calling his name, and Makoto nearly knocked over the girl in front of him as he waved back.

“Sorry, sorry!” he cried, as she hurried away. Makoto sighed, but then rushed toward Rin and Haru, rolling his travel suitcase behind him.

He looked . . . exactly the same. Haru wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he even wore the same clothes he had in high school, and they fit him the same exact way. And he flashed the same smile as he engulfed them both in one hug, the same embrace he'd felt back when Makoto had left for college. “You guys look great,” he said. “Isn’t this weird? All that time in Tokyo, and I feel like a _real_ college student now that I’m with you two again.”

They dropped his stuff at the apartment and showed Makoto around town. They grabbed a cheap lunch from a food truck, sitting on a park bench. He was dragged to the swim club, where Rin showed off every aspect of the building—from the fancy locker rooms and the bleachers, to the glass-encased announcement board displaying their names in the club’s top swimmers.

“You’re really doing it,” Makoto said, staring at the results list. “Can I watch you swim?”

Rin nudged his shoulder. “Practice tomorrow! Bring your suit. We’ll hang out after.”

Rin didn’t catch it, but Haru noticed the nervousness in Makoto’s smile. That smile said he didn’t _have_ a suit, but wouldn’t admit it. Miraculously, Haru convinced Rin to head home and make dinner while he and Makoto caught up. Rin pecked his cheek before darting off, making them promise not to stay out too long.

“Thanks, Haru,” Makoto said, as they walked to Mega Sports. “I could use a new swimsuit, anyway.”

“Are you joining the team next term?”

He shrugged. “If they let me in!”

What surprised Makoto more than the sheer size of the store was the fact most of its employees knew Haru. They waved in greeting, but left him alone to browse the racks. Most either worked or swam at the swim club, Haru explained, but Makoto was still visibly impressed with his popularity.

“How’s the apartment?” he asked, flipping through a rack of suits.

“You just saw it.”

Makoto chuckled. “I mean living there.”

Haru didn’t need a new swimsuit—or, rather, he was trying not to spend too much money—but he browsed anyway, more so for the sake of looking preoccupied. “It’s fine.” He knew that Makoto watched him, and it took only a second to show his true emotion: He bared that small smile as he flipped through the racks, lowering his head as he blushed. “He gives me space,” he continued. “It’s surprising.”

“Maybe not _that_ surprising,” Makoto said, draping another swimsuit over his arm. “I’m going to try these on.”

Makoto was easy to shop with. He'd selected a new swimsuit—he still liked green legskins, Haru was pleased to notice—and they were back at the apartment in record time. Rin hadn't even finished cooking dinner.

“You could’ve told me you didn’t have a swimsuit,” he said, eyeing the bag. “You didn’t have to kick me out for _that_.”

“We had to gossip about you, too,” Haru deadpanned. Rin kicked his shin on his way to the fridge.

There was a domestic air about dinner, the way Rin forced them to sit as he brought dishes to the table, still wearing one of Haru’s aprons. He’d cooked a western meal, with roasted chicken and vegetables, and Makoto was surprised to see Haru had mostly figured out how to use silverware. He was unsurprised, though, that his beverage options were limited to water. Unless, Rin offered, he wanted Pocket Sweat.

“No thanks,” Makoto said with a laugh. “Water is fine.”

If Makoto was truly disappointed that Haru had dropped out of school, he didn’t show it. He admitted to not only checking their blog every day, but also searching for their names on the Internet. “No fan pages yet,” he teased, to which Rin pouted.

Haru was uninterested in what people thought of them, but now Rin was dying to know. He pushed aside his dinner for his laptop, instantly putting their names into the search bar. They had mentions on some sports websites—looking forward to seeing the rookies in action, et cetera—and most were proud that they were openly gay, while others weren’t so positive.

“Don’t let that get to you,” Rin said, as Haru read over his shoulder. “Some people are assholes.”

“Why’d you have to talk about it, anyway?” Haru asked. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s smart, though!” Makoto said. “The media makes a bit deal out of it if they find out later.”

“And I thought you were proud of me,” Rin said, nudging Haru's shoulder with his own.

He nudged him back. “Shut up.”

Haru managed to talk Rin out of their workout the following day, but he couldn’t be deterred from running. But Haru enjoyed the quiet morning with Makoto—despite unchanged appearances, there were slight differences in his habits. Haru never knew him to drink coffee, for one; he’d gone out for a cup and a newspaper. “I mostly read the sports section,” he admitted. “Even though I know you guys won’t be showing up there yet.”

“Cut it out,” Haru mumbled, bowing his head over his tea.

Makoto wasn’t bad at cooking breakfast, either. Its simplicity was either an inability or an unwillingness to make the mackerel Haru would’ve preferred, but he thought better not to complain.

“Still with the mackerel,” Makoto sighed as he opened the fridge. Haru chose to ignore him.

But he couldn’t ignore the way Makoto watched him as they ate. Perhaps Makoto was studying him, too, trying to discern the subtle differences. Haru couldn’t know what had changed within him, but _something_ had—it wasn’t merely swimming or the shared apartment but something deeper, a difference he’d felt since first stepping off the train in Kyoto.

“Haru,” Makoto said with a smile, “you’re happy.” As if he could still, despite the months apart, know exactly what was on his mind.

“I was always happy,” he replied.

“I know, but . . . you’re showing it now. This life suits you.”

Rin feigned offense when he returned, their breakfast plates cleaned and put away. When time came for practice Makoto said he’d meet them later, wanting to check out the city for a bit. Haru couldn’t blame him for not wanting to hang around the bleachers for four hours.

“Makoto said I look happy,” Haru said, when they reached the locker room.

Rin shoved his bag into their locker and then leaned against it, crossing his arms as he scaled Haru’s body: the curve of his thighs in his tight jammers; the newly-defined muscles in his chest and arms.

“Rin, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, got sidetracked.” He pecked Haru’s forehead. “You _are_ happy. Let’s go swim.”

Makoto appeared with an hour to spare, just in time for their time trails. Haru spotted him the moment Fujioka jumped in, readying for the start of the relay. He sat with the swim bag he’d borrowed from them, his new swimsuit tucked away inside, and Rin advanced to the starting block the moment Yazaki dived in.

But then there was _Rin_. Their lane seemed to shine when he dived, his stroke a flurry of water as he whipped across the pool. Haru adjusted his goggles and risked another glanced at Makoto, who sat on the edge of his seat. He focused back on the pool for Rin’s return, the ripple of his shoulders, his gasping breath each time he came up for air.

Haru was conscious only of Makoto watching when he jumped in.

He still felt the wave of Rin’s stroke, convinced he felt the heat of his body in its wake. He knew Rin watched him dive each and every time and he still felt those eyes on him, propelling him forward, pushing himself to turn and get back to _Rin_. But as he breathed he saw Makoto, small and eager in the distance. Even in that brief vision he knew he smiled, proud, waiting for him at the end. Though it was only practice his team cheered, Rin’s voice above all.

Haru slapped the wall and gasped as he came up for air.

“That’s your best time!” Coach announced, and the team high-fived one another as Haru pulled himself out of the water. Rin hugged him fiercely, nearly toppling them back into the pool. Yazaki yanked Rin back by his arm.

“We’ve got this,” Fujioka said, waiting for Haru’s delayed high-five.

Makoto came down to the pool for free swim, after stashing his things in the locker room, and met the other team members before they ducked out for the night. “So you’re Makoto,” Fujioka said. “Seems I’ve got a lot to live up to.”

“Oh, no,” Makoto said, waving his hands in front of him. “You’re a lot faster than I am!”

Children were chattering on the other side of the pool as they got in, taking over the farthest lane. Rin and Haru knew some of them from their classes, and the kids enthusiastically waved to them. The sun was still high in the sky, beating down through the skylights as Haru began to drift on his back, occasionally pulled back by either Rin or Makoto when he drifted too close to the lane divider.

One of the kids from Rin’s class swam over, and took a liking to Makoto the moment they were introduced. She clung to his back as he zipped back and forth, his stroke an awkward cross between breaststroke and doggy paddle. Rin stayed near Haru, nudging him out of the way when Makoto passed, then crossed over to tickle him beneath the water’s surface.

 _“Rin,”_ Haru warned, without opening his eyes.

Makoto insisted they go out to dinner after—he would pay—and while Haru was declining Rin was already listing off the places they could go. They settled on an inexpensive seafood restaurant. Their platters spilled over with shellfish, laughing as they cracked them open tossed the empty shells onto one another’s plates. Makoto marveled over how much Rin and Haru could eat, their stomachs whining with hunger after practice, stealing food off each other’s plates.

But most surprising was Haru, with the way he constantly teased Rin, and how he actually snickered when someone chucked another shell at him. The water always revived him but he was more than merely happy, he was _alive_ ; Rin’s mannerisms came out through him, in the way he smiled wide and emitted a loud “Oi!” in protest when either of them poked fun at him.

“Hey, Makoto,” Rin said, sitting back. “How about we go out tonight?”

“No,” Haru said, when Makoto looked to him for confirmation.

Makoto didn’t have to ask—there was only one place he knew Haru willing hung out, besides the swim club. “I am a little curious,” he admitted, and Haru scowled at the triumphant smile on Rin’s face.

“And it’s karaoke night!” Rin announced.

“You couldn’t mention that _sooner_?!” Haru cried.

He was even more disgruntled that Rin didn’t fuss over Makoto’s going-out clothes, that what he happened to own was suitable enough for his taste. Meanwhile, Haru borrowed from Rin’s side of the wardrobe, pretending he didn’t know whose clothes belong to who anymore. Rin strode ahead on the way to the club, chattering as Haru and Makoto fell behind. Though Makoto smiled as they talked, it was impossible to ignore the slight twitch in his jaw that gave away his nervousness.

“They’re okay,” Haru said, as they approached the unimpressive black door.

Makoto nodded. “If it was just Rin . . . well . . . I’m glad you’re here, too.”

It was early in the night, so the club wasn’t packed yet, and the karaoke upstairs was just getting started. They didn’t dance right away—Rin ordered their usual waters at the bar, and Makoto surprised them both by ordering beer.

“It’s light!” he said, holding up the foam-topped glass. “It’s pretty good!”

They hung around the edge of the dance floor as Makoto drank his beer, and let both of them test it—Rin deemed it all right, and Haru nearly choked. He cradled his water as Rin pounded on his back.

“Hold his beer,” Rin said, transferring the glass to Haru. “I’ve gotta show your boy how to dance.”

Makoto shot pleading eyes at Haru, but he pretended not to notice as he claimed a barstool to watch.

Rin knew Makoto could dance. It was obvious to him, knowing the way he swam. Makoto moved awkwardly at first, but Rin grasped him around the waist to force him to match his rhythm. Whether it was Rin’s movements or the trace amount of alcohol in his blood, ultimately Makoto relaxed. He swung his hips and, to Rin’s delight, held him loosely around the shoulders. They both glanced at the bar, where Haru hid his smile behind his water glass.

“Makoto.” He stiffened slightly when Rin pulled him in, mouth close to his ear. Rin nudged his hip to get him moving again. “Why did Haru stop swimming after high school?”

Makoto frowned and backed up slightly, their foreheads nearly touching as they continued to dance. “You don’t know?”

Rin shook his head. “I didn’t want to ask.”

The song switched to something more upbeat, a tempo that made the surrounding crowd wild. Rin grinded his hip against Makoto’s, laughing when he jumped away. But he stepped closer again to talk into Rin’s ear, the standard whisper inaudible over the bass. “He didn’t want to compete against you.”

“Huh?” Rin fumbled a step, not that anyone besides Makoto would have noticed. _“Stupid!”_

“Rin?” He pulled him upright, swinging them both around. “What is it?”

His hair grazed Makoto’s cheek when he shook his head, holding tighter around his waist. “He refused to sign up for the same events. I’m such an _idiot_! How didn’t I notice?”

Makoto seemed to hug him, pulling him closer and cupping the back of his head. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I need a rest,” he said. “Why don’t you dance with Haru for a bit?”

Makoto took his beer and nudged Haru to the dance floor, where Rin stood waiting with open arms. Makoto had been a good dancer but Haru was _home_ , falling into Rin’s arm and immediately into step together. Haru looked down, watching the way their bodies moved, and Rin couldn’t stop watching _him_ , the hair falling over his eyes and the tight muscles in his arms. Rin kissed the side of his face, close to his ear, and Haru tightened his hold around his waist.

Rin was dripping with sweat when they headed for the balcony, ordering more waters and scoping out the karaoke. “Now I _know_ you can sing,” Rin said, pushing Makoto toward the karaoke machine.

“Oh, no,” Makoto said, grabbing Rin’s wrist. “I’m not going alone.” Again, Haru claimed a seat by himself to watch.

When Rin wound an arm around Makoto’s waist the audience cheered, even before their song began. Makoto looked at him warily but Rin’s beaming smile calmed him, and he threw an arm around Rin’s shoulders as their duet started. It was a rock song, something Haru didn’t recognize, but their voices blended really well, belting out the tune to the rousing cheers of their small audience. Makoto faltered only once, when Rin fell to his knees to belt out the chorus. When Rin stood and kissed his cheek Makoto paled; Haru coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.

Rin was amused to see some of the men checking out Makoto as they retired to the couches. _Why shouldn't they?_ Rin thought. Makoto was built and solid, his smile exuding a gentleness not often found with a body like that. When they sat Rin slung an arm around his shoulders, a little possessively, to which he didn't object. Haru curled up on the couch beside them.

“Haru?” Makoto said, as Haru nestled his head in Rin’s lap.

“Don’t worry about him,” Rin said, stroking Haru’s hair. “Overstimulation.”

He and Makoto talked best they could over the music, Rin sliding closer as the music swelled. But even as they talked, Rin definitely noticed the guy who'd made himself comfortable to Makoto's other side. He wore an open vest with no shirt and a curious smile. Rin leaned closer so his lips nearly touched Makoto’s ear as they talked. He knew what the guy must have seen—one man on his lap, another at his side—and he shared the image with Makoto, which only made him blush furiously.

“Matsuoka’s harem,” Rin said with a smirk, and Makoto jerked his head away. But the other guy was _right there_ , about to tap Makoto’s shoulder as he turned, leaving them both wide-eyed as they came face-to-face. He backed away, knocking up against Rin’s side.

“Mind if I join you?” the guy asked with a wink.

Makoto leaped from the couch, colliding into the table and rattling the empty glasses upon it. “We were just leaving!”

Rin couldn’t stop laughing the entire way back to the apartment. He clung to Haru’s hand, who hadn’t found the situation funny, but when they were back inside even Makoto couldn’t help but chuckle as they rolled out the futon.

“I’m just glad you guys don’t dress like that,” he said.

“Who says we don’t?” Rin replied, and Haru grunted in disgust.

It was bittersweet when they dropped him at the station the next morning. They departed with well-wishes, promises of emails, and a vow to win at the championship meet. They didn’t notice the check he’d left on the countertop until they returned—it was enough to cover their meals for the week in Australia, and then some. Haru texted him to say he refused to cash it, but Makoto said he’d be offended if they didn’t. _It’s the least I can do_ , he said. _Good luck, not that you guys need it!_  

* * *

 The meet was sooner than anticipated, despite the long months waiting—in another three weeks they’d be abroad. Haru was concerned about Rin returning to Australia, but Rin was more concerned that Haru was terrible at the language.

“You know enough to get through an interview,” Rin said. He switched into English. “‘I’m excited to be here. Thank you. We’ve worked very hard. I love Rin Matsuoka.’”

“That last one isn’t happening.”

“But it’s truuue,” he said, nuzzling Haru’s cheek. He then squared his shoulders, shoving an imaginary microphone in Haru’s face. “Haruka Nanase, you have been a dedicated swimmer all your life. You’ve even beat our gold medalist in high school! What’s it like dating the charming Rin Matsuoka?”

“It’s a pain in the ass,” Haru said, grabbing his collar as he kissed him. 

  

On the day of their departure, Haru surprised them both by waking up first. He wouldn’t admit that he was nervous, but he was packed and ready to go before Rin was even out of the bath. Haru sat at the table, staring at his bags, and ultimately decided to pull his laptop from his carry-on. It seemed an opportune time to update the blog, to tell the world that they were Australia-bound. And—he casually mentioned—it was his first time out of the country.

“You comfortable in that?” Rin asked, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

Haru looked down at his T-shirt and jeans. “Yeah . . .”

“Good, ’cause we’re sitting on a plane for ten hours.”

He grunted. “Don’t remind me.”

It was a flurry to the airport. Rin hauled a cab, shoving their stuff into the trunk before they crawled into the backseat. Haru watched the city pass, the now-familiar landmarks whizzing by faster than they did when they ran. It seemed a different city traveling by car, an unknown among the comfortable surroundings. Rin waved at the natatorium in the distance; though Haru rolled his eyes, he stared at it longingly until it disappeared.

Haru thought he’d forgotten his passport when they arrived at the airport. Rin helped him search his bag, pulling it out from the exact spot they’d put it so he wouldn’t forget. Haru stammered through customs, but at least the officer didn’t ask too many questions. They strode through security with purpose, sending their luggage off to be transported and waiting for them in a foreign country. Haru allowed Rin to guide him through this unfamiliar territory, the world of airports and travel Rin had already done on his own, so long ago.

And then they waited.

“Why do we have to get here so early?” Haru asked, staring at the departures screen. “It doesn’t leave for two hours.”

“Because it’s smart,” Rin said. “C’mon, let’s find a coffee shop or something.”

They passed the time over tea and marble cake, odd foreign sweets in this international hub of transportation. Haru watched people pass, wheeling their luggage along—businessmen and women, families with small children, couples presumably on their honeymoon. A group of overexcited college students were waiting at a nearby gate, playing a card game and making too much noise.

“How’d you do this by yourself?” Haru asked.

Rin paused mid-bite. He slowly set down his fork, then traced the rim of his Styrofoam cup. “It was hard,” he admitted. “But they’re really good to kids traveling alone. The flight attendant gave me a little pin on my first trip. It was a pair of wings.”

“Do you still have it?”

He shrugged. “It’s probably at my mom’s.”

It was an overnight flight, so when they finally boarded the plane they each had a blanket and pillow in their seats. Rin willingly took the aisle so Haru could watch takeoff from the window. He didn’t look out the window at first, especially when the plane started to move down the runway.

“Haru?” Rin took his hand.

“I’m _fine_.”

“I— all right.”

Rin wouldn’t point out that he was sweating, nor mention his slight squeak as the plane lifted off the ground. Haru now stared out the window in childlike wonder, watching Japan disappear beneath the clouds. His breathing steadied again once they were in the air, with nothing but the ocean below.

They arranged their blankets to overlap, crossing over the armrest to conceal their linked arms. When Haru finally dozed off, he’d snuggled to Rin’s shoulder. Rin tucked the blankets around them, waiting until the flight attendant passed to lightly kiss the top of his head.

Ten hours would typically pass like nothing to them—the bustle of the morning gym, the endless hours in the pool after. When Rin checked the time, only forty minutes had gone by. He stared at the ocean one last time before resting his head atop Haru’s, closing his eyes to attempt sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never heard Rin's and Makoto's voice actors sing together, [you're missing out](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/79101757944).
> 
> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/88203098053) on tumblr.)


	8. Chapter 8

“Haru.”

Haru groaned and rolled over, smacking his head on the window. He flinched, sleepily swatting his forehead.

“Haru, we’re landing. You’ve gotta sit up.”

The ocean below had been replaced with the patterned landscape of Australia’s coastline. They’d managed to sleep most of the trip—waking for meals, bathroom breaks, and quiet kisses as the surrounding passengers slept—but now the plane rumbled in its descent, and Haru sat bolt upright.

“Haru?”

“We’re going down.”

“We _have_ to go down!” He grinned, holding Haru’s hand between both of his. He stared past Haru and out his window, watching the ground expand to normal proportions—the black pinpricks became human beings again; planes parked at their gates were no longer the size of children’s toys. When their plane touched the runway it jolted them in their seats, but they settled back as it began to slow toward the gate.

“Rin?”

His grin had been traded for something more contemplative, still staring out the window at the long-familiar Australian ground. He still held to Haru’s hand but it was slack, like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“Rin, are you okay?”

Rin seemed surprised that Haru was there, blinking to refocus on his face. He hadn’t yet perfected the art of reading Haru’s expressions—he didn’t often show much of anything—but that little downturned mouth and the creases around his eyes betrayed his concern, tilting his head as he watched him.

A slow smile crept to Rin’s lips before he kissed Haru’s, hardly caring now if the other passengers saw. He leaned their foreheads together and squeezed his hands. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

The crowded Kyoto train station was nothing compared to the bustle of the airport. It took Haru twice as long to figure anything out, with all the signage primarily in English. Japanese had a small presence on the signs, mixed among other foreign languages he didn’t recognize.

Rin’s English was . . . _good_. It was one thing to hear him spout random phrases or help with homework, but another to hear it fluently in the native accent. If Haru could get away with not speaking, he would have. But he, too, had to go through security, then explain to the customs officer why he was there.

“I am swimming in a competition,” he said, cursing his spotty English, but the officer seemed to care only that he had a reason, not what it was. He was relieved when Rin switched to Japanese as they walked through the airport together.

“Wait, Haru.” Rin pulled him toward a newsstand to browse through the foreign snacks, none of which looked familiar to Haru. He was taking a water bottle from the cooler when Rin waved a chocolate bar in front of him. “You’ve gotta try it,” he said, bumping Haru’s hip to nudge him away from the cooler. He grabbed a water bottle for himself. “I hope it’s as good as it was when I was thirteen.” By the register was a small basket of tiny, plush koala clip-ons, their arms extended in permanent hug formation. Rin nabbed one as he paid for their snacks, then clipped it onto the strap of Haru’s carry-on. “Welcome to Australia.”

Haru petted the koala’s furry head as it clung firmly to his bag. Rin peeled back the candy wrapper with his teeth as they started to walk. “You don’t like sweets,” Haru said, as Rin popped a piece into his mouth.

Rin winced as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, holding a piece out for Haru. “Try it.” He waited for Haru to open his mouth to drop it in.

“Too sweet,” he said with a cough, as Rin wrapped up the rest. “Makoto would like it.”

Rin hailed a taxi and they watched the country roll by, the bustle of the airport soon petering out to the brown, post-winter landscape. The air was bitter with the promise of spring, and the cab driver turned up the heat when he noticed his passengers rubbing the goose bumps on their bare forearms.

“Is this where you went to school?” Haru asked, watching the landscape pass.

“Nah. That’s farther south.” He propped an elbow on their shared armrest. “But I’ll take you there someday.” Haru leaned on the armrest, too, looping their pinkies together as the driver eyed the road ahead. “But it’s weird being back,” he admitted. Haru continued to stare out the window, trying to avoid Rin’s expression—whatever it was.

By the time they checked into the hotel and found their room, Haru felt like they’d already been in Australia for a week. Exhausted, he flopped onto the king-sized bed. “We need one of these,” Haru said, stretching his arms out, not even reaching the ends of the mattress.

“Noted.” Rin pounced onto the bed, and Haru groaned when he accidentally kneed his gut. “What, are you done already? C’mon, I have a country to show you. Let’s go for a run.”

Winter was winding down, and the air was slightly muggy, but they pulled on their running clothes. They’d seen a park not far from the hotel when they came in, and though nothing was in bloom the snow had thawed and the paths were clear.

Rin was uncommonly focused. He stared straight ahead, studying the path like it would disappear from beneath them. Haru glanced at Rin’s hand, catching the glint of his promise ring in the dull sunlight. Then he, too, looked ahead, clenching his fists as they jogged around a dry fountain. He never regretted postponing the wedding—but now that they were _there_ , in a country where it was possible, Haru had a difficult time looking at the man running beside him. His _husband_ , or he would have been; a lifelong pledge that still stood.

Haru’s thoughts were interrupted when he spotted a familiar figure jogging toward them. “Is that Fujioka?”

Their backstroke swimmer waved, picking up the pace to meet them. “Did you just get in, too? What a flight. I needed to stretch my legs.”

“Yeah,” Rin replied, stretching his arms behind him. “Where’s Yazaki?”

Fujioka chuckled. “Passed out in the room. Lazy ass.”

They parted ways, their mutual need to _run_ dominating their desire for idle chatter. They promised to sit together at the reception early the next morning, refusing the admit to the other how hard their hearts pumped with the nervous thrill of competition. Rin and Haru jogged faster, leaving their backstroke swimmer behind, the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. But Haru refused to run for too long, claiming to reserve his energy for qualifying the following day. He wasn’t surprised that Rin agreed.

 

* * *

 

Back at the hotel, before they’d even returned to the room, Haru clung to Rin’s jacket as they quietly walked down the hall. He transferred his hand to Rin’s waist as he swiped the keycard, then held him closer as the door clicked shut behind them. Rin could often read his boyfriend’s silent neediness, but Haru hadn’t expected Rin to quickly turn around and lift him off the ground. He yelped in surprise and flung his legs around Rin’s waist, but it had the opposite effect—rather than help their balance Rin stumbled backward, the backs of his knees slamming into the bed and sending them tumbling onto the pristinely-made sheets.

Haru sat up on Rin’s hips, pinning him down. “We can’t stay up late,” he said.

“Is that a challenge?” Rin smirked as he grabbed Haru’s waist, twisting around to pin him to the mattress instead.

 

Though they’d stripped down to their trunks, legs twined and hands wandering, their kisses were slow and drowsy, interrupted by Haru checking the clock or Rin’s sudden burst of giggles. They pulled the blanket to their necks, cuddling closer, lying face-to-face as they swept the other’s mussed hair back to see his eyes.

“Haru,” Rin whispered, as Haru kissed his jaw. “Thank you.”

“Hmm?” He kissed the curve beneath Rin’s lower lip.

"I— this wouldn’t have been the same. If you weren’t here.”

Haru searched his eyes, his own still bright in the darkness of the room. “I told you I’d come to Australia.”

Rin touched Haru’s lips with his own, not so much a kiss as a question, a slight brush to feel that familiar softness. “I’m glad you’re swimming.”

Haru kissed him again, full this time, his tongue gently prodding Rin’s lips until they parted, taking each other into their mouths. Rin sighed as Haru leaned into him, groaning as he quickly pulled away.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Rin grumbled, shifting his pulsing groin away from Haru.

“I’m glad I’m swimming, too.”

Rin pulled the covers over their heads, wrapping a leg around Haru’s waist to kiss him again.

 

* * *

 

They spoke little the following morning. They’d offer quick kisses in passing, anxious smiles of encouragement. Haru pulled open the shades and stood at the wide, tall windows in nothing but his jammers, watching the sun rise over the city. The ocean could be spied in the distance, faintly sparkling in the new sunlight. Haru smiled as he turned to retrieve his new tracksuit from his suitcase, the red-and-white provided for them by Kyoto Swim Club to match their fellow Japanese competitors.

“Hey, Haru,” Rin called from the bathroom. Haru paused, tracksuit in hand, and laid it on the bed rather than put it on.

Rin stood before the bathroom mirror, a towel knotted around his waist and electric razor in hand.

“Rin, what are you . . . oh. Right.” He stepped up behind him, staring at their reflection as his hands slid around to Rin’s chest. “Smooth.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rin gently nudged him away. “Can you get my back?” He fitted the razor into Haru’s hand.

Haru propped his chin on Rin’s shoulder as he stared at the razor, rotating it around and examining the blades. “Never used an electric one.”

“It’s not hard.” He adjusted the towel to sit lower around his hips, the curve of his butt exposed at the top. “You should shave, too.”

Haru trailed his fingers down Rin’s spine, feeling the soft bristle of his hair. “Don’t need it.”

“Shut up!” Rin barked. “We’re going to be late!”

Haru jolted when he pressed the “on” button, and glared at Rin when he snorted in response. Rin’s back automatically contracted beneath the blade, which caught each dip and groove of his muscles.

“How’d you do this without me?” Haru ask, the razor whirring as it moved down his back.

“Why d’you think I switched to electric?”

The bathroom was oddly silent when Haru switched the razor off. He gently trailed his fingers down Rin’s smooth back, convincing himself he was searching for missed spots, but knew he’d caught every inch of his skin. Haru kissed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, babe.” Rin plucked the razor from Haru’s hand. “Go get dressed.”

 

* * *

 

Despite Rin’s rushing around, they were far from being late. The championship’s organizers had arranged shuttle buses from the hotel, and they were on the first trip to the natatorium. Rin furiously texted the rest of their relay team, lecturing them about not being late, but Fujioka assured them that they were ready, and they’d be on the next shuttle over.

Rin often teased Haru for his unnatural attraction to bodies of water, but even he couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the Olympic-sized pool when they arrived. They weren’t scheduled to swim for another hour, so they headed for the bleachers. Coach was already there with a clipboard in hand, scoping out the competition.

“They’re good,” he said, as Rin and Haru sat beside him, “but so are you.”

Rin glanced at the clipboard. Coach had been recording the best qualifying times for each of their events, and a quick scan of the list was all the confirmation they needed.

“We’re making it,” Rin said, as Coach showed Haru the clipboard.

“That’s it?” Haru said, pointing to the four-hundred meter free column.

Coach laughed. “It’s still early, Nanase. But I’ve seen you do better than that.”

They all turned back to the pool, Coach furiously scribbling down times. Rin studied the other swimmers, but he knew Haru stared at the pool itself. Kyoto’s pool looked like a bathtub in comparison—down below, the pool deck was pristine and even the lane dividers seemed to sparkle, as if they were brand-new. Rin tugged the back of Haru’s jacket, as if fearing he’d leap from the bleachers and directly into the crystal-clear water.

“There you guys are!” Yazaki jogged down the bleachers toward them, plopping down beside Haru, with Fujioka not far behind. “Hey, Coach.”

Fujioka pulled a folded-up schedule from his jacket pocket. “You’re up soon,” Fujioka said to Haru.

He didn’t turn from the pool as he spoke. “I have to leave in seven minutes.”

“Not that he’s counting,” Rin said, gently prodding Haru’s shoulder.

The continuous blow of the whistle, the buzzing start-and-stop of the timer, the announcements over the PA system. Haru closed his eyes. The murmur of voices from poolside, the _splash_ of ten swimmers diving into the water simultaneously. The feel of Rin’s hand on the small of his back, that slight pressure of reassurance, made him forget any anxiety.

Coach stood. “Let’s go,” he said, waiting for Haru to follow.

Then, it was the scent of chlorine as they left the locker room. The coach’s encouraging words, a hand on Haru’s shoulder as he spoke whispers. Haru glanced at the stands, seeking out his team. Fujioka had taken over Coach’s clipboard, but Yazaki and Rin watched him intently with stupid smiles on their faces. Rin’s smile broadened when he caught Haru’s eye, but Haru immediately turned toward the pool and stretched his arms overhead. He couldn’t be distracted.

“Four-hundred meter freestyle,” the PA announced, and the swimmers mounted the starting blocks as the first whistle blew.

Haru’s chest pounded as he crouched, gazing over the length of his lane as he gripped the edge of the block. No, he’d never swum in this pool, but it was the water. Location mattered not.

The whistle blew again.

 

“Holy shit!” Yazaki nearly fell off his seat when he leaned forward, focused only on lane three, to the so-called rookie Haruka Nanase who was already far ahead of everyone else.

Rin listened to the surrounding voices in the bleachers, honing in on anyone who even spoke Haru’s name: “Who _is_ that?” “Where’d he come from?” “He’s Japanese, right?”

Rin beamed as he grabbed Yazaki’s jacket, and even Fujioka—who was supposed to be studying times for Coach—stared unblinking at the pool.

“No contest,” Fujioka said, when Haru slapped the wall first.

Yazaki burst into laughter. “The other guys aren’t even _close_!”

“I’ve gotta head down,” Rin said, clapping them each on the shoulder before jogging up to the exit, bursting with the need to corner Haru in the locker room before he qualified himself.

But he could only offer a quick slap on the shoulder in passing, because Coach was already hollering for Rin to hurry it up and get in the pool.

 

Haru was unsurprised that Rin, too, had qualified for his events.

“Look a little more excited for your boyfriend,” Yazaki said as he applauded, as Haru sat up straighter when Rin pulled himself from the pool. He waved to the stands, and only when Rin flashed his big, bright grin, his cheeks flushed from swimming, did Haru share a smile as well.

The team celebrated that evening, when Yazaki and Fujioka had qualified for their individual events, and when their relay team was a shoo-in for the finals. They found a nearby pub, though they all stuck to non-alcoholic beverages. The place had high windows overlooking the water and the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow on the marina. Haru watched the boats dock, their occupants strikingly familiar in that strange new country, the same ruddy-faced expressions and cheerful camaraderie of fishermen back home.

Though he didn’t pay attention to his team’s conversation Rin still stood with an arm around his waist, holding him close as they talked of the championship. Fujioka had ordered food from the bar, spring rolls and seafood skewers and something else Haru didn’t recognized, which Rin fed to him anyway and he didn’t dislike. Yazaki insisted the lemon cake was a necessity, though he was the only one to eat it.

They scooted out once the pub’s night crowd filed in, catching the shuttle back to the hotel. Though the sun had set it was still early, and Haru insisted that they go for a run before retiring. His other teammates claimed exhaustion after the day’s events, but Rin was raring to go the moment they stepped off the bus.

The park was lined with streetlamps, the sidewalks filled with fellow joggers and pedestrians who politely stepped out of their path. Both Haru and Rin remained silent, jogging side by side, focusing solely on the echo of their feet on the pavement and the stretch of their limbs as they moved. At ten a.m. the next morning Rin would be in the pool for his first heat. Haru was conscious of this fact; Rin's mouth was set in a firm line, the veins prominent in his neck. According to the schedule, Haru wouldn’t be in the water again for another four days. He didn’t think he’d be able to wait— _not fair_ , he thought, that his race felt so far away.

Then, Haru’s mind was filled with visions of the pool, how comfortable he felt in the foreign water. Of its waves, coursing with swimmers, of the crowded stands and the spectators’ eyes on him. How it felt when his body dipped into the pool. Of _Rin_ , of the way _his_ body moved, fluid as the water itself—

“Haru!”

Rin’s hand flashed in front of him and he looked down, too late, as the ground rapidly came up to meet him. Haru twisted just in time so he shoulder slammed to the pavement rather than his face, and then Rin was crouched beside him, touching his arm and his face and his hair.

“Haru, are you okay?”

His body seized as he tried to roll over, discovering that his foot was tangled in a loose tree root. When he shook it off he could lie on his back, but the pain shot up his arm. “Oww.”

“Shit.” Rin’s eyes were wide with panic. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”

Haru moved to put a hand to his shoulder, which Rin instantly smacked away. He slowly sat up with Rin supporting his back, his other hand hovering over the injured shoulder.

“Okay, just breathe. Don’t move, all right?”

“I’m _fine_. Stop fussing.”

“You’re _not_ fine.” Rin plopped to the ground cross-legged, carefully touching Haru’s injured shoulder.

Haru couldn’t _see_ any blood, but he felt the stickiness on his skin, seeping into his T-shirt. “Oww.”

“Yeah, _oww_. C’mon, let’s get back. Can you walk?”

“Idiot,” he said, standing at the same time as Rin. “Of course I can—” He was cut off when he tumbled into Rin, a searing pain in his ankle when he tried to apply weight to it.

With an arm around Rin’s shoulders, and Rin supporting his back, they hobbled to the hotel. Rin wouldn’t stop muttering expletives under his breath. Haru felt the blood drip down his arm, leaking from the hem of his sleeve in a steady drip to the pavement. The hotel’s concierge made a beeline for them when they entered, hurriedly offering ambulatory services, but Rin waved him off and requested a first aid kit instead. Haru cradled his arm, trying to hide the dripping blood as they waited for an elevator.

“It’s not bad,” Rin assured him, without looking at the injury. His movements were rushed and jerky as he swiped the keycard for their room, failing to unlock it the first two times. When he finally stumbled in, he was in the bathroom drawing a bath before the door even had a chance to close behind them. Rin forced Haru to sit on the lowered toilet seat so he could remove his shirt.

“ _Oww_. Rin.” Haru jerked away as Rin peeled the fabric from his blood-slicked arm.

“It’s gotta come off, all right? Help me out here.”

Haru winced as he lifted his arms, allowing Rin to remove the shirt. He stared at Rin rather than the mess on his arm, though it was no better—the raw panic had set on his face, and he hesitated before opening the first aid kit. His hands were shaking as he ripped open an alcohol wipe.

“I can swim,” Haru said defensively, sucking a breath through his teeth when the alcohol touched his shoulder.

It _burned_ , and Rin unnecessarily went through four wipes. Haru risked a look at his shoulder—scratched and bloody, extending from shoulder to elbow, and it wasn’t until then that the pain fully set in. Haru rarely cried, but tears suddenly pooled at the corners of his eyes. He tried to convince himself it was only from the pain.

“You should never look at it,” Rin said with a smile, swiping a tear from his cheek. He then helped Haru out of his pants and into the tub, making sure he didn’t put any weight on his twisted ankle. Rin ignored his whining over the freezing cold water, but once Haru settled in to his neck he’d stopped complaining.

“I’m going to get ice,” Rin said, hurrying out of the room.

Haru moped. He stared at his scraped arm, resisting the urge to poke at the wound. He tried to shrug, but the pain shot through his shoulder. He closed his eyes, unmoving until the room's door slammed closed again. Rin dropped a bag of ice on the bathroom counter, and Haru didn’t protest when Rin eased his leg out of the water.

“It’s not broken,” Rin said, gently prodding the skin, “but it might be sprained.”

“Quit poking it,” Haru said, flicking water at him.

Rin sat on the tub’s edge, holding the makeshift icepack to his ankle. He’d filled the bag from the ice bucket and it was _heavy_ , resting on his busted foot, but Haru didn’t say anything. And he ignored Rin’s concerned look, too, as he gently stroked his leg, a shiver unrelated to the cold rippling up Haru’s spine.

Rin’s hand crept farther upward and Haru was in too foul a mood to stop him. He watched that hand on his knee, then sliding along the inside of his thigh, and he closed his eyes when Rin stopped, taking deep, labored breaths. Rin’s lips fell to his leg, kissing up his shin while one hand still supported the ice bag on his foot. Haru opened his eyes when Rin whispered his name.

“I’m going to swim,” Haru said stubbornly.

“Mhmm.” Rin kissed the inside of his knee, his fingers tickling the underside.

Haru lifted his arms and his shoulder screamed in protest, blood dotting over the wound again. He felt pathetic and needy as Rin lifted him from the tub, the water flowing off his body and trailing behind as he was carried to the room. The makeshift icepack crashed to the floor, already forgotten, as Haru wrapped an arm around Rin’s shoulders, his strength unbalanced with the uselessness of his left arm.

“Damn, you got heavy,” Rin muttered, setting him down in an arm chair. “Lemme get you a towel.”

“No.” He looped his uninjured foot around Rin’s calf, tripping him up as he tried to walk away. Rin huffed as he turned but Haru was looking up pleadingly, his body wet, cold, and naked, and it took only a glance at his erection for Rin to stay. He pulled off his own shirt and tossed it to the bed, then sank to his knees between Haru’s legs.

“Only _you_ could get hard in cold water,” he said, running his hands up Haru’s thighs. He kissed him slowly, tongue flicking against Haru’s inner thigh, and though the pain of the fall now bloomed _everywhere_ , shooting down the side of his thigh, Haru urged him closer, cupping the base of Rin’s head and watching his lips glide up his leg.

There was a knock on the door and Rin ignored it, as his hand slipped between Haru’s legs, as Haru’s breath caught and he leaned back against the chair. They hardly heard the mumble of voices from the hallway, but they couldn’t ignore when the knocking grew louder.

A familiar, teasing voice was heard through the door: “Onii-chaaaan?”

Haru sat bolt upright, momentarily forgetting his injuries, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain as Rin scrambled off the floor. “H-Hang on!” he shouted, flinging his suitcase open to toss a pair of track pants on Haru’s lap. Haru still held his injured shoulder as Rin yanked the door open, not giving him a moment to even put the pants on.

“Gou?! _Mom?_ ”

Rin stood at the doorway as his family strode past, his sister throwing her arms around his shoulders and his mother laughing at her son's dumbfounded face. “Why are you all wet?” Gou screeched, shaking the front her now-damp jacket by the hem.

Their mother, however, stopped in the middle of the room, as Haru stared at the wall with a pair of pants bunched on his lap. “Are we interrupting something?”

Rin grunted. “Ugh! _Mom!_ ”

“Hello, Matsuoka-san, Kou.” Haru glanced at them. “I just got out of the bath.”

Rin grabbed both his mother and sister by the hands, pulling them into the hallway and slamming the door behind them. Haru would have liked to dress quickly, but his swollen ankle couldn’t take any weight. He reached for Rin’s muscle shirt on the bed as voices drifted from the hallway, awkwardly maneuvering it on without lifting his arm. Finally there was laughter from the band of Matsuokas, then a knock on the door as he pulled Rin’s pants over his still-throbbing erection. He was grateful that Rin’s clothes were still slightly too large on him.

“We _couldn’t_ miss your first international meet,” Rin’s mom was saying, after Haru called them back in. “We can’t stay long, but— _Haru_ , what did you _do_ to your arm?”

He scowled at his biceps. “I fell.”

Rin tried to hold them both back, but to no avail. Haru stared at his lap, and if anything was a mood killer, hovering Matsuoka women was it—Gou stood gawking as their mother gently touched the scrape. Haru turned a different sort of pleading eye to Rin, but he was helpless. Rin could only try—and fail—to conceal a laugh.

“I’m going to swim,” Haru said, like the skipping needle of a record player. He didn’t bother to mention the sprained ankle.

They didn’t stay long, reminding them to get a good night’s sleep, promising not to stop by again until after the welcome reception. They would all go to dinner, their mother said, insistent on finding an authentic Australian restaurant. Rin nodded, feigning bemusement, but they could all sense the tears he held back, the wonder at having his family _there_ , fussing over them and giving them both hugs and kisses on the cheek before they scurried from the room.

Rin leaned against the door after he closed it, sighing heavily as he looked to Haru. He hadn’t moved from the chair.

“I don’t believe they’re here,” Haru said, as Rin plopped to the bed. He tried to stop Haru from moving but he hopped one-legged to the bed, his bum foot dangling as he sat sideways, cupping Rin’s face as he finally burst into tears. Haru stroked Rin’s jaw, the steady stream of tears dripping down to his wrist.

“I _am_ swimming,” Haru said, and Rin nodded, grasping his hand to kiss his palm.

 

* * *

 

He refused to use crutches. They left early for the welcome reception, walking amidst the crowd of athletes who passed them at a normal walking speed. Haru grit his teeth but Rin set a hand on his back, urging him to calm down, and when they finally approached the stadium doors Fujioka and Yazaki were waiting for them.

“Nanase!” Yazaki cried. “what the hell happened?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said, as Rin pulled them aside to explain. But he smiled as they spoke, the silent reassurance that all would be fine.

Before they even reached the bleachers, they could hear music wafting through the halls of the stadium. The welcome reception had already started but people were still milling about outside. They located the crowd of Japanese swimmers who cheered when they approached, grateful for a familiar language despite the unfamiliar faces. They all looked at one enough before heading into the natatorium, each face plastered with a smile. Haru squeezed Rin’s arm, though neither would acknowledge who the assurance was intended for.

One of the Japanese swimmers turned to them. “Your first competition?” he asked.

Rin nodded. “Outside Japan.”

The guy grinned and clapped Rin on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard.” Haru turned his own shoulder away, grateful he hadn’t tried to touch him at all.

Each country’s swimmers would head out to the pool together, one of the organizers explained, and it was important that they stay together. The Japanese team all nodded collectively, fidgeting as they waited for their country's announcement. But they didn’t have to wait long—moment they heard the announcement in English they breathed a collective sigh, then walked in before the crowd.

The ace bandage wasn’t obvious within his sneaker, but Haru’s foot throbbed with each step he took toward the pool. He tried to make it look like he wasn’t limping, which only accentuated the injury. Rin wouldn’t leave his side—his hand hovered at Haru’s back, in case he faltered—and their relay teammates walked right behind them.

The cheers were deafening, the bleachers packed with newscasters and spectators. Swimmers from other countries stood around the pool, cheering themselves hoarse, and Rin raised an arm high to wave to the crowd. Haru could only gaze up at them all, his heart and his foot pounding, his skin sweating despite the chill in the air. Already the applause was for the next country advancing onto the pool deck but it never ceased, one continuous greeting for them all.

The Japanese team relaxed once they were in place, huddled close together and cheering for the next group of swimmers. Rin frantically scanned the crowd.

“There,” Haru said, raising his uninjured arm to point into the stands. Rin looked up, as if he knew where exactly he was indicating. “Fourth row from the top.”

There they were—in the middle of the bleachers sat Gou and their mother, their matching red hair vibrant under the lights. They both waved frantically and Rin grinned like an idiot, waving back, reaching for Haru’s hand.

Fujioka, standing behind them, put a hand on Rin’s shoulder. “Calm down, Matsuoka,” he said, but couldn’t hide the smile on his own face.

There was a musical performance—a local Australian band—and some speeches, and neither Rin nor Haru could concentrate enough to absorb all of it. All Haru was aware of was the crisp, clean pool before them, and Rin could only focus on the fact he’d be in the water ten o’clock the following morning. They felt each other’s pulses through their hands, constantly pressing the other’s palm. After the reception concluded the other teams went out to celebrate, one last hurrah before the competitions began. Though Fujioka and Yazaki urged them to hang out they politely refused, claiming necessary family time.

But they didn’t have plans until dinner that night—the women had a tourist-filled afternoon before then—leaving Rin and Haru to their hotel room. They were quiet on the cab ride there, and quiet still when they got to their room. The cheers reverberated in their minds as they fell to the bed, sitting up against the headboard. After a time, Rin removed Haru’s Japan-issued track jacket and gently applied ointment to his shoulder, applying more than necessary and rubbing slow circles even after it had been absorbed.

“This is it,” Haru said, breaking the silence.

Rin wiped his hands on a washcloth and straddled Haru’s lap, careful not to touch his arm or the blossoming bruise on his thigh. He held Haru’s waist and kissed him slowly, their lips instantly falling into rhythm, Haru feeling for the hands on his body. Tremors coursed through them as they kissed, as Rin’s hands slid into the band of Haru’s track pants. Haru grunted when Rin broke the kiss.

“I have something to finish,” Rin murmured against his lips, easing back to slide down Haru’s pants.

The bruise was impossible to ignore—a purple-and-yellow mark on his hip, disappearing into his jammers. Haru didn’t flinch when Rin peeled down his swimsuit, gently touching the bruise at his side. He kissed the skin gently, his fingers teasing between Haru’s naked thighs.

“Careful,” Haru murmured, when Rin went to hold his hips. He quickly moved his hand up around his waist again.

It was everything: It was Rin’s gentle hum, the way his mouth moved against him. It was the exhilaration of the welcome reception, the countless pairs of eyes watching them from above. It was the water, clear and waiting; the country, the unfamiliar ground and its unfamiliar language. It was the broken promise of marriage, in the week of their planned nuptials.

It was dinner with the Matsuokas, at a seafood eatery where they dined on lobster on their mother’s insistence. It was the injury, the bothersome pang in his foot each time he shifted, the stiffness of the scab when he tried rotating his arm. It was the way Rin lectured him to _stop fidgeting_ , or he wouldn’t be able to swim at all.

It was waking the next morning to Rin singing in the shower, his new jammers laid out on the armchair—courtesy of Komi’s Fish Market—and the swim cap boasting their country’s name and flag. It was the way Rin sauntered from the shower, not bothering with a towel, pouncing on the bed to kiss his bleary boyfriend.

“I’ve gotta head out early,” Rin said, “but Ma and Gou will come by to pick you up. Make sure you’re dressed this time, eh?”

Haru waited until Rin left the room—but not before Rin smothered his face with kisses—to pull out his laptop, opening to their blog. The comments were pouring in, especially after Rin had announced their arrival in Australia. Well-wishes from people they’d never met; silly, meaningless comments from Iwatobi. Nagisa commented on each and every one of their posts, whether it had anything to do with the entry or not. But now his _You guys are gonna be awesome!_ was all Haru needed to open up and create a post himself, one that Rin wouldn’t read until later—after his international debut.

> _Australian Championships: Day 1_
> 
> _Rin just left for his first championship race. If you can watch, he’s in the 50m fly at 10:00. You might see me in the stands with his mom and his sister, who surprised us by showing up. But you already know that, because Rin is better about updating this blog than I am._
> 
> _I tripped when we went running and scraped my arm pretty bad, and my ankle is a little swollen. But it’s ok. I’ll be in the 400m free on Wednesday. I’ve received enough lectures from Matsuokas the past few days to know I shouldn’t do anything stupid before then._

He scanned Rin’s blog entries, noticed how much longer they were, and sat for a while trying to think of more to say. His fingers hovered over the keys before he continued.

 

> _I’m anxious about the championship, but not because I’m nervous. Maybe I’m a_ little _nervous. But I’m excited we’re here._
> 
> _I should go. I have to get ready to watch Rin’s event. I wouldn’t miss that for anything (even a sprained ankle and this blog)._
> 
> _Haruka Nanase_

By the time he’d showered and dressed, there were already ten comments—good luck wishes and encouragements—and he’d received a text from Makoto.

_We’re all watching! Good luck from Japan :)_

He was still staring at the message when Gou pounded on the door.

 

* * *

 

Rin wondered how they’d handle the Olympics. Because even here, as he waited for his heat, he was restless. His heart visibly beat in his chest as he wiped sweaty palms on his jammers. Rin hadn’t wanted to watch the other swimmers, but it was inevitable—scoping them out, checking out the rapid-fire stroke of his competitors.

Instead, he looked to the stands. He’d found them right away—Haru and his family sat in the front row, their eyes locked on the pool, Gou’s vision obscured through the lens of a camera. He wondered if she saw anything past the firm, masculine bodies, if his mother saw his father gliding through the water.

But Haru . . . when the current swimmers finished his eyes wandered to poolside, where he knew Rin stood. And Rin beamed, catching that small smile on Haru’s face, the way he clenched his fists between his open knees.

Rin stepped up to the starting block.

If there was a good start to his international debut, it was this—the fifty-meter races didn’t count toward the team’s final score, but to say he rested easy was an understatement. He pressed his goggles over his eyes and studied the lane before him. The crowd had quieted save for the click of cameras, and he knew his sister’s was one of them. He grinned as the whistle blew and he dived.

 

It was flawless.

Haru hadn’t realized he’d grabbed his future mother-in-law’s arm. But she held to him, too, grabbing his hand as Rin flew into his butterfly.

“By the gods,” she whispered, “he’s _fast_.”

Gou’s camera clicked rapid-fire. She couldn’t have even seen the race—the way her brother shone over his competitors, the way the race was over far too quickly.

“Who won?!” Gou cried, grabbing Haru’s good arm.

 

He’d finished first.

Rin knew the cameras were trained on him so he laughed to hide the tears, wiping his face as if he wiped off sweat. The guy in the neighboring lane high-fived him—he didn’t even know his name—and the refs had to remind him to get out of the pool; the next heat was about to start.

He stood at poolside, hands on his knees as he regained balance, willing his head to stop spinning.

 _First_.

It was a small victory, those fifty meters, though it wasn’t a complete victory; he’d return for finals that evening. But when he met his family afterward his mother wouldn’t stop kissing his face, and Gou wouldn’t stop shouting, and he clung to Haru, whimpering on his shoulder.

“Your arm!” Rin quickly pulled away when he realized which shoulder he’d been blubbering on.

“Don’t worry about my damn arm.” Haru kissed him full on the lips.

They watched the remaining races, though Rin couldn’t sit still in the bleachers. They cheered for each representative of their country, whether they knew them or not. Haru sat up straight when the fifteen-hundred-meter free was announced, watching each swimmer as he stretched and stood by his starting block for the whistle. His eyes widened when they began.

Rin gently massaged Haru’s back as they watched, and Haru was fixated each time the swimmers turned, over and over again.

Rin leaned toward Haru to be heard over the cheers of the crowd, speaking directly into his ear. “Check out that endurance.”

“I want to swim.”

It wasn’t anything new. Rin slid closer as they watched, but Haru’s fixation wasn’t merely awe like Rin—he leaned forward, eyes daring across each lane and the electronic timer overhead. “Haru?”

“That’s my event”—he pointed to the pool—“for the Olympics.”

“You’ve got some training to do.” Rin tweaked his hip, looping their ankles together beneath the bleachers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/88907276278) on tumblr.)


	9. Chapter 9

When Rin returned for finals, his initial nerves had extinguished. He waved to the crowd as he jogged to his lane, blinded by a flurry of camera flashes. _“Rin Matsuoka, representing Japan,”_ spoke the commentator, and he flashed a brilliant smile, stretching his arms behind him as his competitors approached their own lanes. He practically leaped onto the starting block when the whistle blew.

Fifty meters. _Practice_ , he told himself, for the one-hundred meter fly the following day. It was a chance to establish his surroundings, get a feel for the unfamiliar pool. But as he dived, it was all he’d ever know, not unfamiliar at all—the thrill of the race, the way he pushed himself ahead of his competitors. The sun had dipped behind the mountains but still shone through the skylights, the water brilliant as he furiously kicking his legs, smacking the water as the end came in sight.

 

Twenty-seven point one four seconds.

Second place.

Haru sat between Rin’s mother and Gou, again, and was jostled around when they burst from their seats. Gou pulled him to his feet—by his good arm, thankfully—though he would have stood on his own, anyway, with the row in front of them in a standing ovation. Haru stood on his toes, peeking between their heads. He homed in on lane four, watching Rin come out of the water and give a good-natured high-five to the victor.

Second place.

No, it wouldn’t count toward their team’s final score. But as Rin ran to them outside the natatorium, his tracksuit clinging to his damp skin, he hadn’t lost that shine of victory. He was cocooned within a group hug, smothered with kisses from all sides. Haru burned from within, doubting they would be able to sleep at all that night, already pumped for Rin’s next heat the following morning.

 

* * *

 

Rin was surprised that his family didn’t stay—his mother promised they’d have a celebratory dinner at week’s end—and there was a bounce in his step as he walked beside Haru, returning to the hotel.

But first Haru needed to stop by the pharmacy, dramatically cradling his injured arm. He claimed Rin’s mother had ruptured something in her excitement, forcefully grabbing him during Rin’s race.

Rin didn’t doubt it. He waited impatiently as Haru stood in the middle of the aisle, studying the vast selection of first aid creams. Rin tapped his foot as Haru picked up a box, then put it back, then picked up another to read the label. After the fourth box Rin yanked it from his hand and shoved him toward the register. But he humored Haru when he made a detour to pick up a gallon of water.

“I don’t like the tap water in the room,” he explained, though Rin hadn’t asked.

Haru held his hand as they walked through the hotel lobby. He continued to hold on as they rode the elevator, but Rin didn’t dare to kiss in front of the security cameras. When they approached the room and Haru dug through his bag for the keycard, Rin took his face in both hands to press the long-awaited kiss to his lips.

“This is the start of a new life together,” he said.

Haru returned the kiss gently, a slow drag of his lips over Rin’s. “Close your eyes,” he said, as he swiped the keycard.

Rin cocked an eyebrow, but silently obeyed as Haru opened the door. He didn’t turn on the light—Rin could tell that much—but he heard the distinct scritch of a match igniting and the _woosh_ of its tiny flame. Rin sensed his warmth again when Haru returned to his side. “Okay.”

Rin opened his eyes. “What . . .”

The room was illuminated by two candles on the desk, which had been pulled in front of the window and draped with a white tablecloth. It looked to be set with two room-service plates, the food concealed with domed silver covers. Rin slowly approached, peeking under the lid of one of the plates. The wafting scent of seared steak made his stomach rumble.

“Haru . . . how—”

He nestled to Rin’s back. “Your mom. I didn’t really need that ointment.” He kissed the nape of his neck. “Eat. You’re probably hungry.”

 _Hungry_ was an understatement as Rin fell into the armchair, Haru settling into the desk chair on the opposite side. Their eyes met over the candlelight.

“You _are_ a romantic,” Rin said, lifting the cover off his plate.

“It’s your fault.”

“But why?” He eagerly pierced his steak, the knife cutting through it like butter. “Today doesn’t even count.”

“Yes it does.” Haru handled the western utensils carefully, holding his fork like a paintbrush as he stabbed a broccoli spear. “But it’s not because of the race.”

“Mmph?” Rin spoke through a mouthful of steak.

Haru chewed slowly, staring at his steak as he cautiously handled his knife. Rin set down his silverware, watching. Waiting. “I love you, Rin. I’m sorry we’re not getting married now.”

“Haru . . .”

“You were planning for when we got here—”

“Stop.” Rin reached across the makeshift table for his hand.

Rin hadn’t forgotten about the canceled plans—still, that conversation at Sidetracks loomed in the back of his mind—but now Haru sat across from him, eating food he wouldn’t have picked for himself, with a busted arm and an insistence that he’d get into the pool. Rin moved the candlesticks to the end of the desk, out from between them, so he could lean over and kiss Haru’s lips, tasting the spice from the vegetables and his own sweet, chlorinated scent. He brushed Haru’s fringe from his eyes before sitting back down to eat.

Haru later drew a warm bath, insisting that they bathe together so he could massage Rin’s sore muscles. But his back rub was interrupted by his kisses, slow across his shoulders before Rin turned around, carefully taking Haru into his lap.

“That looks like shit,” Rin said, running a hand over Haru’s bruised thigh.

“It’s fine.”

It was rare that Haru wanted to make love in the water. “Don’t taint it,” he’d say, whenever Rin tried in the past. But it was fitting now that Haru straddled his hips, that he allowed Rin’s hands to wander down his backside. The water was Rin’s; it was _theirs_.

“Are you sure?” Rin whispered, as Haru nodded and grinded his hips. Rin touched the scab on his biceps but he didn’t flinch—he hardly reacted at all—as his arms wound around Rin’s shoulders. Droplets dripped from Rin’s wet hair to Haru’s skin, sliding down his back as they moved slowly in the slick porcelain tub.

 

* * *

 

Rin had his first interview the following day. It wasn’t so much an _interview_ as someone shoving a microphone into his face after his heat, after he’d beaten his personal best in the one hundred-meter fly. His name was relatively unknown but the commentators loved him—later, he’d read emails from friends about how often the cameras were zoomed in on him—and the interviewer had merely asked how he felt after the race.

“Like I’m winning the finals,” he said, pushing his wet hair from his face as he winked at the camera.

He placed second, the silver medal heavy on his chest as the crowd cheered, as he sought his family in the stands and waved directly at them. Even Haru looked like he might shed a tear, but he looked positively _stoic_ compared to his mother and sister, who were sobbing on each other and screaming loud enough that Rin could swear he heard them over all else.

 

Rin noticed the persistent limp in Haru’s step as he prepared for his own race the following day.

“They’re not gonna let you swim like that,” he said, pointing at Haru’s busted foot.

“I’m going to swim.” Haru placed his hand on Rin’s chest, where the silver medal lay beneath his track jacket. “Are you wearing that all day?”

“You bet I am, baby.” Rin smirked, looping an arm around Haru’s waist as he kissed his lips.

But the injury didn’t go unnoticed, especially when Haru shed his jacket at poolside. His bruised hip looked jaundiced, his step uncertain as the commentator announced his name. He raised his right arm in a hesitant wave, aware that everyone stared at the six-inch heeling gash on his left.

But that didn’t prevent him from stepping to the starting block. He’d been waiting for his race all week, taunted by Rin’s constant swimming, and nothing would stop him. Not when he was _there_ , the pool welcoming him. He stretched his arms overhead, as if to prove he could.

“Onii-chan,” Gou whispered, sitting beside him in the stands, “will he be okay?”

“He better be,” Rin muttered, as the swimmers set to dive.

He had a good start. But the most Rin could brag was that he kept up—he wasn’t surpassing the others at all, not like Rin knew he could. He clutched his mother’s arm as Haru made the first turn, staggering slightly before he caught up again.

“What are you fussing over?” his mother asked, prying Rin’s hand off. “He’s doing fine!”

“He’s not _fine_.”

He was _average_. He’d pull ahead, but then lose ground when he turned. _That damn ankle_ , Rin thought, squinting toward the pool. He was obviously pushing off with only one foot. And even from his vantage point he could _see_ the scrape on his arm; his movements jerked unnaturally, nothing like the solid, fluid swimming he’d been known for his whole life.

“Haru-nii,” Gou whispered, low enough that Rin almost didn’t hear.

He caught up in the last stretch, but not enough.

Third in his heat.

Haru seized the pool’s edge, staring up at the results board. It was an ploy to buy himself time: Rin could tell how hard Haru fought to contain the wince of pain. When he tried to pull himself from the pool, his arm gave out and he fell back into the water.

When Rin bolted from his seat, he was only vaguely aware of his mother calling after him. He thought Gou had followed but he didn’t care to look back to confirm. He couldn’t see Haru in pain—he _couldn’t_. Rin lowered his head and pushed through a crowd, ignoring their complaints as he shoved them, cutting through the locker room to get to the pool.

An official had already helped him out and Haru was nodding, leaning too much to one side as Rin darted past the other swimmers. He heard his own name over the PA system as he grabbed Haru’s waist, conscious even in his panic not to touch any part of Haru’s body that might hurt him.

“I’m fine,” Haru said, before Rin said anything.

“Like hell you are.” The crowd was cheering as Rin pulled Haru’s arm around his shoulders, testing his weight as he tried to walk.

Voices crackled over the speakers. _“And that’s Rin Matsuoka, our silver-medalist in yesterday’s butterfly event.” “And look at Haruka Nanase—not even in top form, and placing third in his heat. Here’s a guy we’ll be seeing again for sure.”_

“Haru,” Rin whispered, touching the wrist that limply dangled over his shoulder, “look.”

Haru hadn’t paid any mind to the noise but now he turned, transfixed. The crowd had risen to its feet—watching, applauding, the cheers growing louder as they both looked up.

“Why?” Haru whispered, as Rin stepped away, keeping one hand on Haru’s back for support.

“Because you’re okay. Thank them, Haru.”

Haru lowered his head, paused, and then bowed low at the waist. The audience cheered louder. He turned to the judges, bowing again, still astonished when he stood upright. Rin slung an arm around his waist again to help him hobble toward the lockers, but the cheers of the crowd never faded.

 

* * *

Haru didn’t feel distraught over not making it to finals. All he _could_ feel was the pulse in his sprained foot, not yet healed, and the ointment Rin slathered on his reopened arm wound. And he felt the frustration in that touch, the way Rin held back as he tried to be gentle.

“I’ll tell the guys we can’t do the relay tomorrow,” Rin said.

“No.” Haru twitched when Rin touched his ankle. “You go.”

“Don’t be an idiot. We can’t swim without you.”

He was grateful that Rin walked beside him when they left the locker room, for he hadn’t expected the journalists to bombard him.

“Haruka Nanase?” one said, as if she didn’t know him, like she hadn’t just watched him stumble haphazardly out of the pool. “That was a rough swim, but you almost made it to finals!”

Rin opened his mouth but then stiffened, clearly resisting to answer for him. He kept his arms straight at his sides, desperate to touch Haru’s hand or shoulder or the small of his back. It would have to wait.

“Yes,” Haru replied, his mind rushing to find the right phrase in English. “I will make it next time.”

The other journalist cut in. “That was a touching moment when Rin Matsuoka came to your aid.”

Haru turned to Rin, who was already staring at him. That single expression spoke volumes: Their mutual support, the love shown on camera, the need to confirm the likely question on the spectator’s minds: _Are_ _they . . . ?_

Haru turned back to the journalists. “I would do the same for him.”

When they met up with Rin’s family, Haru wondered if he should have said more to the interviewers. But his English was limited to stock phrases— _Thank you. I am excited to be here_ —and in the moment hadn’t known the words to explain Rin. (Partner? Boyfriend? Fiancé?) But they would find out, once they searched for them online, discovering their mutual blog. As they all piled into a taxi—mother in the front, her children in the back—he was pleased with himself for not saying anything at all.

“Where are we going?” Haru asked, squeezed between Rin and Gou, when the cab didn’t even slow as it passed their hotel.

“You’ll see,” was all Rin would say.

Makoto texted him as they drove past city limits, and Haru could hear the high-pitched worry in those words: _Are you ok?? Are you hurt??_

 _I’m fine_ , Haru replied, as Rin read over his shoulder. _Rin says I need rest._

Rin received a text soon after. _Make sure he rests!_

Their mother assaulted the cab driver with a flurry of questions, though her English wasn’t any better than Haru’s. Rin constantly interrupted, apologizing to the driver, telling his mother to shut up. The cab driver only laughed; they weren’t the first tourists he’d ever toted around.

“Did he say tourists?” Haru asked, and Rin lightly smacked his knee to shush him.

It seemed they were let out in the middle of nowhere. No signs, no buildings, just a dirt path through a densely-wooded area. But Rin was content as he paid the driver, and Haru silently wondered how they would even get back.

“You’re not leaving my side,” Rin said, holding Haru around the waist. “And don’t put too much pressure on that foot.”

“What are you—” Rin silenced him with a kiss.

They walked side by side down the path, the trees shielding the sun overhead. Due to their tree-lined canopy, they hadn’t known the exact moment it started to rain. Gou squealed as she covered her head with both arms, huddling beneath the cover of a tree with her mother on her heels. But Haru remained in the center of the path as the train trickled through the leaves, lifting his face to the sky.

“Idiots!” Gou yelled. “You’re getting all wet!”

Haru held tighter to Rin as the rain poured buckets on them, soaking them to the bone. Their matching white track pants clung to their legs, revealing the black swimsuits beneath. The squall passed nearly as soon as it had started, and Rin laughed as Haru shook out his hair like a dog.

Gou rushed back to them, pointing a finger in their faces. “You’re going to get sick!” she said, but Rin only ruffled her wet hair.

Their sneakers squelched through mud, the silence interrupted by the calls of local wildlife and their mother’s occasional “Look at that!” as a bird or lizard made its appearance. Haru knew better than to ask Rin what the heck they were doing. But in that moment, it didn't matter—Rin smiled, holding tight around his waist and pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. It wasn’t long before a clearing was visible ahead, a literal light at the end of the tunnel.

Gou ran ahead, looking up in awe at something the rest of them couldn’t yet see. She was bursting with unspoken giddiness as her mother joined her, as Rin and Haru hobbled up beside them.

Haru was dumbfounded.

The look on his face as he gazed upon the fifty-meter waterfall, pouring into the clear pool below, was something none of them had ever seen, or gathered they would ever see again. It was like time had frozen as Haru gazed upon the natural wonder, head tilted upward as if praising a god, the water’s sheen reflected in his widened eyes.

“C’mon,” Rin said, gently nudging him toward the water, “let’s go in.”

The girls had already disrobed, revealing their swimsuits beneath, and Rin helped Haru to the side of the pool to remove his clothing. It had been unnecessary to ask Haru to bring a swimsuit—not only did Rin already know he was wearing it, due to their damp tracksuits, but Haru had a strange habit of changing into fresh jammers even after a race. It worked in his favor. Rin was wearing his old black legskins, the silver medal heavy on his chest when he peeled off his T-shirt.

“You’re not wearing that, right?” Haru asked, and Rin stared at the medal briefly before tucking it away in his bag.

“The water’s perfect!” their mother said, waving from the center of the basin. “Get in, you two.”

As if Haru needed the command. But when he took one unsteady step forward Rin slung an arm around his shoulders, and Haru didn’t have time to react before Rin had hoisted him up into his arms.

“No,” Haru said, but clung tight around Rin’s shoulders.

“This is the best way, babe.” And Haru yelped as Rin burst into sprint, splashing into the water and dropping him once they were waist-deep.

The water _was_ perfect, neither too warm nor too cold, and Haru immediately swam toward the waterfall. It was a slow crawl, conscious of the way Rin fussed as he started to swim. But he’d pause at intervals, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the waterfall, and Rin would come up behind him and gently hold his hips.

“You knew I wouldn’t win,” Haru said, touching the hands at his sides. “You planned this.”

“I _hoped_ you would win,” he replied, kissing his shoulder. “But we had a back-up plan.”

“Have you been here before?”

Rin nuzzled the nape of his neck. “No.”

But Haru wanted to swim and Rin reluctantly let go, and the water was fierce closer to the falls, pushing them backward with its force. If Haru had been in top form he could’ve plowed through the wake, but it was better, somehow, that they couldn’t get much closer, that Rin held onto him in fear he’d be whisked away.

Haru turned to the women, who hadn’t ventured far from the shore. Gou was swimming slow laps now, a modified crawl with her head above water, and he smiled to himself. She seemed to have remembered everything he’d taught her the summer before.

There was a lodge not fall from the falls and the girls soon departed for provisions—Haru was hungry the moment they’d announced their search for food—leaving them blissfully alone, for by some miraculous intervention no other tourists had yet to appear near the pool. Once, there were others at the top of the waterfall, leaning over the manmade fence that protected them from the deadly drop. They’d waved, and Rin waved back, Haru too preoccupied with the water to even notice they were there.

The moment the spectators disappeared, Rin took Haru into his arms.

Haru hardly felt his injuries as they held to each other, though Rin’s kisses on his face and shoulders helped to soothe the pain beneath his skin. There was a slight throb in his ankle but it was dull; Rin’s lips on his made him nearly forget about it. They heard the women’s footsteps return but didn’t break apart right away, and Gou shouted in feigned disgust as their mother laughed and spread out a towel.

“Get out here and eat,” she commanded, in that voice that offered no refusal.

She apologized for the lodge’s lack of fish, but Haru was so famished he would’ve eaten anything they put in his hands. He scarfed down the ham sandwich as Rin rummaged through the bag.

“Oi, Mom,” he said, pulling out a jar of vegemite, “you did _not_ buy this crap.”

“Not _all_ of us are as well-traveled as you are,” she said, snatching the jar from him. “We have to try the local favorite.”

“Hey, Haru, you’ve gotta try this stuff.”

Gou dug a box of crackers from their grocery bag as Haru opened the jar and scrunched his nose. He eyed a cracker warily as Rin spread a thin layer of vegemite over it.

They all watched as the cracker disappeared into his mouth.

And then he coughed, scrabbling for his water bottle, as Rin laughed and pounded his back. Haru emptied the bottle in one gulp.

“Never again,” Haru said with a cough, as Gou passed him another bottle of water.

As they ate more visitors began to appear, shedding their clothes and splashing in the water. Some of them eyed Rin and Haru, as if trying to place how they knew their faces. But one boldly approached clutching her shoulder purse, hovering outside their little picnic until Rin looked up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Rin Matsuoka, right?” she asked in English, her voice catching on her nerves. “And Haruka Nanase?”

“That’s us,” Rin said with a smile.

“This is so cool! Can I . . . uh . . . . can I get your autograph? And maybe a picture?”

Haru froze mid-bite, staring at the girl, as Rin scrambled up to stand beside her. “Of course! Hey, Ma, get a picture of this. My first autograph.” The girl giggled as she rummaged through her bag, procuring the program from the day’s events. “Haru, get up here.”

“How’s your foot?” the girl asked, as Gou helped him stand.

“Hurts.” He limped toward them.

“His English isn’t great,” Rin said in a loud whisper. “But he’ll get better. The foot _and_ his English.”

Haru scowled. “Shut up, Rin.”

“Your English is fine,” the girl said with a laugh.

Rin insisted on wearing his medal for photos, and they stood on either side of the girl as the camera snapped and they signed her program. Rin was positively giddy when she hugged them, thanking them profusely as they left (in Japanese as well, Haru was pleased to hear), and then Rin suffocated Haru in a vice-grip hug.

“Watch the arm!” Haru shouted, and Rin kissed his cheek.

 

* * *

 

When they returned to Japan a letter was waiting from Haru’s parents, rerouted from his old dormitory. (“You never told them you left school?!” Rin cried.) They had watched the championship diligently, congratulating Rin on his victories (“Really? They mentioned me?”) and praying for Haru’s health, throwing in standard morale-boosters like “You did very well” and “Next time will be better.” Haru grumbled and shoved the note into a kitchen drawer.

But the injury only boosted his popularity. _Third in his heat_ , the articles said, _and he was injured the entire race_. Though news of Haru’s talent soon replaced that of the fated Australia race—they researched his times at the swim club, at the minor meets they’d attended in the region. The way Rin Matsuoka helped him still popped up when boasting of his victories. That only helped to solidify another fact—where Haru was, Rin would be also. The reverse was also true, and it didn’t take long for their swimming world to understand.

In the coming months, sponsors began to vie for their attention. Some companies refused—they had expected as much, being openly gay in Japan—but this only brought others to the surface. Even Kyoto’s local LGBT organization sent them money, though they’d never been a part of the group. What they hadn’t expected, though, was a check in the mail from the Iwatobi Swim Club.

Captain Rei had enclosed a letter, which was signed by the entire team:

> _Rin-senpai and Haruka-senpai,_
> 
> _We have hosted numerous fundraisers at Iwatobi for our swim club, and feel it necessary to contribute toward your Olympic goals. We have all been following your success and have complete confidence that we will see you on the victor’s podium at Rio._
> 
> _This is exciting! Please come visit us when you return to Iwatobi._

“They can’t have this much money,” Haru said, staring at the check.

“I don’t want to know what Nagisa’s making them do for fundraisers.” Rin plucked the check from Haru’s fingers.

Sports Zero rose as their primary sponsor, having received support from not only the Iwatobi branch, but also the corporate level. They also acquired sponsorship from z-Mobile, a small cell phone provider, who not only paid for their travel expenses as they toured Japan but also gave them new phones.

“You’ve gotta use it now,” Rin said, as Haru randomly swiped at the touchscreen.

“There are no _buttons_.” Rin came up behind him, chuckling at he wrapped his arms around him, showing Haru how to turn the phone on.

They seldom had downtime, and even Rin enjoyed a quiet night at the apartment when they could, silent in each other’s company. Rin clicked away at his laptop, keeping the blog frequently updated, as Haru settled into his corner to sketch. They’d cleared a spot on the wall to display their victories, various shades of medals tacked up on the wall. They’d boast to each other when adding to the display, making fun of the other for not having as many. “I’ll catch up,” one would say, every time, as the other looked away and feigned offense.

They lived for the thrill of the water and the public’s attention—even Haru couldn’t deny delight in their applause—but they loved the nights alone in the apartment, coming down off the high of celebrity. One night, as they sat back-to-back on the floor, Rin read online articles at the table as Haru simply closed his eyes, enjoying the cool autumn breeze through the open window and the feel of Rin’s body behind him. The tapping of his computer keys nearly lulled him to sleep.

“Haru, look!”

He slowly turned, wrapping his arms and legs around Rin’s body and setting his chin on his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“We have a fan site!”

It was the most hideous thing he’d seen, though the creator had tried—varying shades of red and blue for the background; a slideshow of their races; up-to-the minute updates on their victories and interviews. It was certainly thorough, though a little eerie.

Haru squinted at the screen. “Go back to the biography.” In a few clicks he was reading his own profile, his humble start in Iwatobi, the glorious swim team he’d help form in high school . . . and he smiled. “Rin, look at the bottom.”

It was small, but unmistakable—the bespectacled photograph of the blog’s creator, and his elaborately-drawn electronic signature: _Rei_.

Rin laughed. “What a nerd.” He clicked on his name to send an email.

“Say we’re his biggest fans,” Haru said.

He closed his eyes again, resting his cheek on Rin’s back as he typed. He felt the slight rise and fall of Rin’s breathing as he played with the hem of his shirt. He liked feeling Rin’s abs—a slight touch of his skin, that little shiver beneath his fingertips.

They both groaned when there was a knock on the door.

Haru sat up. “You get it.”

“No, you get it.”

Haru relented first, tugging down his T-shirt as he rose. Rin noticed the sudden stiffness in his back the moment he peered through the peephole.

“What is it?” Rin asked, shutting the laptop’s lid.

“My parents.”

Rin hadn’t seen Haru’s parents since high school. He scrambled up when Haru opened the door, his parents greeting their son with slight smiles and quaint kisses on the cheek. Haru stared at them blankly when they entered; Rin was already bowing, staring at the ground and trying to ignore the fine layer of sweat on his forehead.

Haru stood motionless, arms hanging limply at his sides. Eventually, he closed the door. “Hi.”

“We’ve been following your schedule,” his mother said, “but still weren’t sure if you would be here.”

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” his father added.

“Surprise” and “Nanases” weren’t two terms Rin thought to put together. And it was clear that they immediately judged the apartment—they quickly scanned the small seating area, peeking into the bedroom to take note of the single bed. His father coughed.

“You live together, then?” his mother said carefully, as she approached the wall of medals.

“I told you that,” Haru replied. He quickly looked to Rin as his parents stared at their victories, but Rin only shared a similar desperate look.

“W-Would you like a drink?” Rin rushed for the fridge before they had a chance to answer. “We really only have water,” he added with a nervous laugh.

Haru didn’t sit beside Rin when they settled around the table. They sat across from each other instead, looking back and forth between the parents, each gripping a water glass too hard. Rin wasn’t on bad terms with Haru’s parents, but they’d made it clear in the past what their plans for their son had been—including a good education and settling down with his own family. Which, incidentally, required a wife.

“Have you gone through your college fund?” his father asked, not having touched his water.

“No,” Haru replied, then quickly added, “a little. But our sponsors take care of our travel expenses.”

“And we did that photo shoot that covered our rent,” Rin cut in.

His father nodded, as if this answer satisfied him.

“What will you do after the Olympics?” his mother asked.

Rin and Haru looked to each other. The Olympics had been the final goal—everything they’d ever worked for—and neither had given much thought to the _after_ , though one thing was certain:

“We’ll go back to Iwatobi,” Haru said.

 _We_ , he had said, the realization hitting the table all too late. Rin watched him studying his water, wanting nothing more than to kick Haru beneath the table. _Tell them_ , he thought. _You stupid idiot—_

“Without a college degree?” his father asked.

Haru continued to stare into his glass. “I can go back,” he whispered.

“And you are planning marriage abroad?” his mother asked.

Rin’s mind went blank. Haru glanced at Rin’s paled face before turning to each of his parents. But there was no fear in Haru’s expression—he _smiled_ , fidgeting with his promise ring.

“Yes.”

His father sat up straighter. “But it won’t even be recognized in Japan!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rin replied, his voice soft, reaching a tentative hand to the table’s center. Haru didn’t hesitate to grasped it.

There wasn’t an acceptance—it was nothing like the announcement at Rin’s home, no hugs or happy squeals or “welcome to the family.” It was mere recognition as his parents exchanged a look over those clasped hands, as Rin and Haru gently gazed at each other with small smiles.

“We’ve read your online blog,” his father said. “And want to congratulate you on your athletic success.”

His mother nodded. “And future success. We expect to see you both at the Olympics.”

It was a world his parents didn’t understand but Haru turned his smile to them, accepting their careful hugs across the table and a slight kiss on the forehead from his mother. It was the most they could ask—the subtle acknowledgment that Haru refused to succeed with Rin, that they would do it _together_.

To their relief, his parents couldn’t stay long—they had business in Osaka the following day. But they stayed for dinner. Rin rushed to the market for more food, not having enough for four in the fridge. And it was almost comfortable sitting around the table, Rin feeling less an outsider as Haru’s parents tried to engage him in conversation. They had little in common, as Rin’s knowledge of business was limited, but they spoke of swimming, and their sponsors, and little by little they began to understand that their son was okay. That he was happy, successful, and—reluctant to admit—in love.

“Promise us something,” his father said, as Haru cleaned up after dinner. “When this . . . marriage . . . occurs, you’ll tell us.”

Haru set a plate into the sink so slowly that it didn't make a sound. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Don’t go eloping,” his mother cut in.

Rin flushed as bright as his hair as he hastily stood to help to clear the table.

“We’ll tell you,” Haru said, taking the dirty plates from Rin.

 

The coming swim meets went by in a flash. Autumn passed; they qualified for every one they attempted, finishing in the top five in each. And Rin stayed true to his word—they never competed in the same events, often bickering before qualifying which ones they’d register for. But while Rin stuck to one- or two-hundred meter events, Haru gradually participated in longer races. He placed first in the four-hundred meter free, proving he was more than capable after Australia, and was gradually working his way up. By the time they were training for the next championship meet in Tokyo, he was finishing eight hundred meters without breaking a sweat.

The relay team, too, continued to improve. While Yazaki hadn’t been dead-set on going to Rio, he was motivated when they all swam together. He was confident that he’d get there, too, having absorbed the dreams of the others.

“That’s what having a team will do for you,” Rin would say, grinning at Haru when he said it.

Haru would begin to retort that the relay didn’t matter—they were all focused on their individual events more—but he’d stop himself, simply turning away as he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/89582925658) on tumblr.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth about waiting until tomorrow to post this, but then remembered it's already Haru's birthday in Japan.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVE ♥

With the start of spring came the shedding of coats, wide-open windows, and—to Rin’s delight—the blooming of sakura trees. They hadn’t taken a proper rest from training since moving to Kyoto, not that either of them desired to, but it was a prime opportunity to take a week off and go back home.

Besides, no amount of practice could keep Rin away from his little sister’s graduation, and even Haru was feeling nostalgic to witness the ceremony for his swim club’s final founding members. They stayed at Haru’s house which, first, needed a desperate airing out.

“This will be mine, too,” Rin said, and Haru only offered a smile as he threw open a bedroom window. Rin flopped to the bed, grunting when he hit his head on the back wall. “And we’ll need a new bed.”

“What’s wrong with my bed?” Haru asked, perching on Rin’s legs.

“It’s too small!”

Haru moved to lie beside him and lifted the hem of Rin’s shirt, stroking his stomach before kissing the skin right above his belt. Rin arched his back as Haru slid the shirt up, stretching his arms back so it could easily be cast off.

“You make it too easy,” Haru mumbled, sliding up to meet his lips.

“Ceremony’s not for a couple hours.” The corner of Rin’s mouth twitched, his fingers already toying with Haru’s belt buckle. Haru lifted his hips as his trousers were pushed down.

Of all the times they’d laid together in that house, the nights of pleased groans and tangled sheets, Rin couldn’t help but feel _changed_ , like they’d never made love before, not in that bed, not in that lifetime. It was the early afternoon, with the spring breeze cooling their heated skin. It was the house itself, vacant over their year in Kyoto, returning together to the place they would build their home.

 _This will be mine, too_ , Rin had said, but it was more; it wouldn’t be _his_. It wouldn’t be _Haru’s_. As Rin pulled Haru closer, and as Haru kissed the corners of his eyes, the electricity passed between them. They lost sense of their surroundings, of their individual beings, unaware of whose beating heart was whose, their matched pulses melding into one strong, steady beat.

And Rin still marveled that Haru wanted to bathe with him afterward, sharing his water, squeezing into the cramped confines of the tub. Rin nestled between Haru’s legs and enjoyed the feel of those lips on his shoulders, the soft comb of Haru’s fingers through his hair.

“Let’s get a bigger tub, too,” Haru said, and Rin nuzzled closer.

 

* * *

 

Rin wanted to leave early, convincing a reluctant Haru that he needed to stop by the elementary school. “It’s on the way,” he said, which wasn’t entirely accurate, but Haru couldn’t deny his interest in checking out the old grounds as well. The sakura tree overlooking the schoolyard was in full bloom; its flowers littered the ground as they tread upon it. Rin was positively giddy, squeezing Haru’s hand as he gently kicked blossoms from under their feet.

“I finally get to see it in bloom,” Rin said, staring up at the tree.

“You haven’t been here?”

He shook his head. Rin crouched before the old, weathered garden, bringing Haru down with him, knowing exactly where to find those bricks he sought. He left a slow, lingering kiss on Haru’s cheek before turning back to the garden. “I like that ours are next to each other.”

“But it’s part of a phrase,” Haru said, pointing at the bricks. “It wouldn’t make sense.”

Rin chucked a handful of blossoms at him. “Don’t ruin the moment!”

In return, Haru made them stop by Komi’s Fish Market so Rin could meet Komi himself, who was ecstatic to finally meet the nationally-famous swimmer he was sponsoring. He was a stout old man, a little too enthusiastic, rushing around the counter to vigorously bow and shake Rin’s hand. He wanted to send them off with a slab of fish, on him, but Rin politely declined.

“You were one of our first sponsors,” he said, waving away the package. “You’ve done so much already.”

“We’re going to graduation,” Haru interrupted, sniffing out the offered mackerel. “We’ll come by later.”

They met Rin’s mom at the school’s entrance, who bombarded them both with hugs. Haru was immediately reminded of Rin’s hypersensitivity—she wept as they hugged, though was a lot quieter about it than Rin usually was. Makoto had saved them all seats, which brought another round of hugs and near-tears from Rin as they crowded in the bleachers together.

“Haru!” Makoto said, holding him by the shoulders. “You’re really muscular!”

“I’ve been training,” he said defensively, as Makoto hugged him again.

It was strange, being at the old school, among old friends, knowing just how much had changed. Haru looked around the crowd, catching everyone who glanced in their direction.

Rin’s mom, too, had noticed the attention. “Hometown heroes,” she whispered, leaning across Rin to speak to them both. “The entire town of Iwatobi knows who you are.”

Haru slunk down in his seat but Rin lifted his head, waving to the next person who caught his eye. The boy—a first-year, by the looks of it—hesitated before waving back.

The ceremony itself was dull, but they picked out everyone they knew in the hoard of graduates, watching them fidget in their seats. All except Rei, who sat at attention and listened to every word of every speech. They didn’t fail to notice that Nagisa continued to look behind him, seeking Rei out, who promptly ignored him.

“Some things will never change,” Makoto said, to no one in particular. Haru smiled in response.

Rin’s mom took innumerable photos after the ceremony, in a plethora of poses—the graduates together; Gou with Rin; all the original Iwatobi Swim Club members. Gou suggested they take photos by the pool, too, which everyone agreed to, though Makoto made Haru promise not to jump in the water.

“Not during pictures, at least,” Rin added.

“It’s too cold to swim!” Makoto cried, and Gou burst into a fit of giggles.

They all crowded into the Matsuoka residence afterward, where Gou and Rin’s mom made a celebratory dinner as the new graduates flooded their older friends with questions. Rei wanted to hear all about the University of Tokyo, as he was slated to begin there as well, and Gou pulled out her scrapbook that followed Rin’s and Haru’s careers.

“This is amazing!” Nagisa cried, as she flipped through the pages.

It was all there—beginning with Rin’s first photo in front of Kyoto Swim Club, grinning like an idiot, to the article covering their most recent first-place finishes at the Kansai regional tournament.

“We get a lot of news here,” Gou said, “since you’re local favorites.”

“What did I say?!” their mom called from the kitchen.

There wasn’t enough space at the table for them all, so they dined in the backyard on a spread-out bed sheet, picnic-style. Makoto took over the camera so every Matsuoka could appear in the shots. Once, Rin shoved the camera in Haru’s hands so he could get a picture with Makoto himself.

But the week was short-lived, and soon again they were scattered over Japan. Rei and Makoto made plans to meet as soon as they were settled in Tokyo, and even Gou, though not attending the same school, would be headed in that direction. Nagisa was en route to Osaka, but vowed to visit Kyoto whenever he could.

“If we’re there,” Rin said with a smirk. “You’ve gotta act fast, Nagisa. We’re hard to keep up with.”

But before they returned to Kyoto, Rin wanted to make one final stop. They packed their bags early the day of departure, bidding farewell to their future home as Haru locked it up again.

“When do I get a key?” Rin asked, as Haru slipped the house key into his bag.

“When you live here.”

Rin pretended to pout, but still pecked Haru’s lips.

They climbed the hill overlooking the ocean, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Haru suspected their destination so he didn’t ask; he merely followed as he looked out at the water, which glowed orange with the sunrise. He stopped at the Matsuoka family grave without Rin having to tell him they’d arrived.

Haru wandered to the path’s edge, overlooking Iwatobi as Rin softly spoke to his father. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but selected words didn’t escape his notice— _Swimming. Olympics. Haru. Love._

“Get over here,” Rin said, and Haru silently stepped up beside him. Rin didn’t touch him at first—he stood aside, allowing Haru to stare at the marker—as if introducing him, waiting for his father’s approval.

“Matsuoka-san,” Haru said, bowing low at the waist.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Rin replied, touching Haru’s shoulder.

“No, I . . . want to.” Rin stepped aside to give them space but Haru grasped the sleeve of his jacket, then slid his hand down to twine their fingers. The breeze lifted the hair off their foreheads as Haru studied the familiar name etched into the stone. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Rin’s hand, then looked up again.

“You would be proud of your son,” Haru said, instantly feeling Rin’s shiver. “I am.” He stared at the base of the stone, swallowing hard before continuing. “We’re going to the Olympics. That’s our plan. I wouldn’t be doing it without Rin.” Rin finally stepped closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, releasing Haru’s hand only to transfer it to his back. “I love him. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He wanted to kiss Rin then. He spied his lowered head, almost _heard_ the tears dripping to the dirt. But when Rin lifted his head his cheeks were dry, strong before his father. Haru reached for the stone, tracing the characters he knew so well, feeling the slight sting behind his eyes.

Rin sniffled as he lightly rubbed Haru’s back. “It would be okay.”

* * *

 

Soon, it was back to training. Back to Kyoto, to the swim club, to hours of swimming and weight lifting. And to their domestic rituals, of shared cooking and massaging each other’s tired muscles at the end of the day.

Kyoto’s sakura trees were already past full bloom, but Rin insisted they go see them anyway. It was a nice break—walking side by side, buying salmon-stuffed onigiri from a street vendor and claiming a bench beneath a tree. They looked out over the water, Rin watching people as they passed and Haru watching Rin as he slowly ate.

“What is it, Haru?”

Haru scooted closer, and Rin threw an arm over the back of the bench. Haru squinted up at the sun filtering through the tree, fiddling with the onigiri in his lap. Then he quickly kissed Rin’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I know that.” Rin squeezed his shoulder. “Love you, too.”

Haru took slow bites of his food, aware that Rin was watching, waiting for him to speak. He looked back up at Rin, his face set and determined. “Let’s get married after the Olympics.”

Rin held Haru’s chin and pressed their foreheads together, kissing the bridge of his nose.

“Will you?” Haru asked.

“Hmm?” He stroked Haru’s cheek with his thumb. “ _You’re_ asking _me_ now? I said _I_ would do it again.”

But when Haru pouted and averted his gaze, Rin held him closer, cradling his head to his chest. Rin played with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the vibration of Haru’s happy murmur. He lifted Haru’s hand, kissing his ring-adorned finger.

Haru quickly sat up, narrowly avoiding knocking his head into Rin’s chin. “Let’s swim,” he said, then inhaled the rest of his onigiri.

They were there on time for free swim, the pool overcrowded with the public. The lifeguard offered to set up a lane for them but they declined, instead claiming a spot at the pool’s edge to drift. Haru was happy to float on his back and Rin kept hold of his hand, ensuring he didn’t drift too far. Some of the pool’s patrons recognized them and swam over to ask questions, or share congratulations, or simply awe that they shared the same pool as Haruka Nanase and Rin Matsuoka. Rin promised autographs later when they all got out of the water, and Haru _hmm_ ed in silent agreement.

And, to their surprise, the fans stayed. Rin and Haru sat at the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water as people scrounged for anything they could sign—swim caps, old bus tickets, school notebooks. A teenage boy asked if he could hug them, which Rin couldn’t refuse. And then, after giving Haru a hopeful look, he accepted, too.

“I just want to thank you guys,” he said, crouched behind them with a hand on each of their shoulders. “It means a lot to me that you’re out.”

Haru looked down at the water but touched the hand on his shoulder, and Rin full-out hugged the boy again, squeezing him tight. The boy didn’t stop grinning as he headed for the lockers.

“That’s why this is important,” Rin said, touching Haru’s hand, and Haru nodded as he linked their pinkies.

 

* * *

 

But Haru didn’t think himself much of a celebrity. He was still astonished when people recognized him, and more so when he was approached. Most people simply requested confirmation of his identity (“I’m sorry, but are you Haruka Nanase?”) but some were avid swimming fans, asking after his foot (“It healed a while ago.”) or, when he was alone, how was Rin. (“He’s fine.”) Rin tried to coach him on small talk etiquette, but he still preferred as little conversation as possible. But those who followed the sport, rather than just recognized his name, were quick to understand and appreciate his quiet demeanor.

Rin, on the other hand, soaked it in. He began to carry pocket-sized glossies in his swim bag, in case someone approached who desired his autograph. He had a few of Haru, too, much to Haru’s dismay, but promised he didn’t give them out if they weren’t together.

“It’s weird,” Haru said, staring at the glossy of himself. “People want this.”

“Who _wouldn’t_ want that face on their wall?” Rin yanked the photo back and pressed a kiss to his cheek in exchange.

Most nights they were too drained from training for intimacy, though they tried. They typically fell into bed after eleven o’clock, having woken at six that morning, and Haru was continually frustrated with how slowly their bodies moved. And it felt like one or the other’s muscles were always sore, if not both, unable to lift a leg around the other’s body or get a firm grip around his back. They’d fall to the mattress, spent before they’d even shed all their clothes.

But they knew better than to complain, at least aloud. They were content snuggling up against each other, and the warmth of the other’s body lulled them to sleep more than their mutual exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

The next championship meet was in Tokyo that summer, and Haru emailed Makoto right away to tell him. Makoto didn’t hesitate to write back: _You guys can stay with me! Plenty of space on my floor :)_ “Plenty of space” was an overstatement, judging from the photos he’d sent of the rented house, but they readily agreed that Makoto’s floor was preferred over a fancy hotel any day.

On top of that, there was an unspoken anxiety over the meet—if their relay team succeeded, they’d be clear contenders for the Olympics. Haru couldn’t quite figure out the logistics. “So we don’t have to . . . qualify?”

“Not for the relay.” They sat on the floor, where Rin massaged Haru’s overworked shoulders. “This could be it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Haru said, as Rin dug the heel of his hand between his shoulder blades.

“Just take it. And Haru?” He lightly kissed his ear. “How about we don’t go running before this one?”

“Hmph.” Haru squirmed in his affectionate embrace.

After they trudged home from practice one evening, Haru began readying dinner as Rin sifted through their backlog of mail. He was afraid to dismiss anything as junk—even the most skeptical of letters could be something important, and he sat at the table and ripped open each and every envelope as Haru sautéed the fish.

“Anything good?” Haru asked, as he poured rice into the cooker.

“We’ve _got_ to check the mail more often.”

Rin sighed as he shuffled through the pile—there was more junk than he expected—until finding a letter from z-Mobile that, luckily, had only been sitting in the mailbox for two days. He immediately scanned the letter.

“Holy _shit_.” He fumbled the letter, scrambling to snatch it up before it fell to the table. “Oi, Haru. How do you feel about doing an advertisement?”

“Huh?” He turned around, spatula in hand, as Rin waved the letter in the air.

It would be a small ad—appearing only in Kyoto and, if they liked, their hometown—but with the upcoming championship meet, the arrangement could benefit both the sponsor _and_ athlete.

“We wouldn’t have to _do_ anything,” Rin said, reading the letter for the third time. “Looks like they’ve got the idea—we’d just have to pose like we’re talking on the phone. I know that’s hard for you, though.”

“Shut up. Idiot.”

“And it’s a _lot_ of money.”

Haru lifted an eyebrow. “What’s a lot?”

The letter trembled in his hands. “Like . . . we could pay our rent for the next two years. Up front.” He laughed when Haru’s spatula clattered to the floor.

 

* * *

 

The photo shoot was strange, sitting back to back on stools before a green screen, not even knowing what they posed against. And it was hours that they just sat there, adjusting their positions, pretending to call or text each other.

“You haven’t seen each other for months,” the photographer prompted, “and Matsuoka, Nanase calls you out of the blue.”

Rin chortled. “Can we do the other way around?”

They reshot numerous times because Haru didn’t smile, forgetting that they were _acting,_ pretending the other wasn’t sitting right behind him. But they were both satisfied with the final result, much to the sponsor’s delight—the billboard would have a black bar down the middle, separating them, as Rin called on one side and Haru smiled down at his phone on the other.

“They can put one up in Iwatobi, too, if we want,” Rin whispered, pulling him aside.

Haru side-eyed the photographer, who was busy chatting with their sponsor’s representative. “Does it matter?”

Rin shrugged. “Gets us more money.”

Haru decided it was worth it to see their faces at the Iwatobi train station when he visited, at least for a little while.

But he was still alarmed each time he opened a magazine and saw that ad, unprepared for his own face spread over the page. “Our picture’s in the paper all the time,” Rin pointed out, motioning to a stack of newspapers piled on a shelf.

“That’s different,” Haru said, quickly turning the magazine’s page.

They took a break during the next practice from their individual events, focused instead on the relay they intended to qualify for in the next championship. Rin felt their combined energy each time one of them sprang into their leg of the relay. He couldn’t explain it—as Yazaki dived in and Rin prepared to set, he sensed Haru at his peripheral vision. His presence alone pushed him harder, made him swim faster with each kick of his legs.

And when he returned, smacking the wall and watching Haru dive, he followed the long, lean curve of his body as he disappeared into the water. It wasn’t until Haru was nearly at the end of the lane that Rin forced himself out of the pool.

But Rin wasn’t his usual overexcitable self on the way home. They walked in silence, Haru sneaking glances when Rin was distracted, and Rin touching Haru’s arm or the small of his back when they turned a corner. Haru found his keys first in the depths of his swim bag, unlocking the apartment door as Rin held to the hem of his shirt.

“What is it?” Haru asked, as they closed the door behind them.

It was an odd ritual, the way they wouldn’t speak their minds until behind closed doors, isolated from the rest of the world. Here, Rin breathed easier, taking Haru’s face between his hands and simply smiling at him. Haru never looked as good as he did after swimming—his skin seemed to shine, his eyes clear and focused, like he’d witnessed the value of the world in the water, calling to him, giving him life.

And now, after the years of being together, Rin still marveled that Haru looked upon him in the same way.

“I want to swim with you,” Rin said, stroking his cheeks.

Sharing the water, submersing himself in Haru’s life, in his world.

Haru blinked at him. “You are.”

Rin kissed him then, ignoring the furious growl of his stomach as he pulled Haru closer, spreading his hands across his back to feel every inch of his body, to feel Haru’s arms encircle his neck. Rin slid his hand downward, cupping his ass, delighted by the soft whimper from Haru’s throat.

When he felt the grumble of Haru’s stomach Rin laughed, breaking away and wiping the saliva from his mouth.

“Romantic,” Haru muttered, as Rin turned for the kitchen. Haru followed, leaning against the counter as Rin turned on the broiler. He watched Rin prepare the steaks, and didn’t touch him again until dinner was safely within the confines of the oven. It took only Haru’s slight touch on his shoulder for Rin to hoist him onto the countertop, kissing him furiously. Haru sat on the edge, legs wrapped around Rin’s waist as his stomach rumbled, winding his fingers through Rin’s soft, damp hair. He grunted when his phone rang.

“Ignore it,” Rin said against his mouth, then slipped his tongue between Haru’s lips.

They ignored the incoming text message as Rin pulled off Haru’s T-shirt, tossing it across the room.

Haru peered over Rin’s head at his swim bag, the phone buried inside, as Rin sucked on his chest as the phone rang again.

 _“Fuck,”_ Rin muttered. Haru whimpered when he tore away, yanking damp clothes from Haru’s bag until he located the phone. “Shit.” He thrust it toward Haru. “It was Makoto.”

Haru hadn’t checked his phone all through practice—three missed calls from Makoto, and a flurry of text messages:

_Did you get my email?_

_Haru, call me!_

_I don’t know how this happened._

“Huh . . . ?” He slid off the counter to retrieve his laptop, opening it on the table as Rin rushed to the oven. The scent of singed meat filled the room as he dropped the pan to the stove top with a clatter, remembering now that he’d neglected to set the timer. “Hmm.”

“What are you _hmm_ ing about?” Rin plopped down behind him and kissed his shoulder, lightly tickling Haru’s spine as he opened the link in Makoto’s email.

“I know this page,” Rin said, propping his head on Haru’s shoulder. “He’s a pretty big sports blogger.”

“Do you read _all_ the sports blogs?” Haru asked, reaching back to thread his fingers through Rin’s hair.

“Wait . . . scroll down.” Rin squinted at the screen, leaning in, ignoring Haru’s grunt as he was pushed forward. Haru side-eyed him, doubled under his weight, but sighed in reluctant consent when Rin’s arms went around him. “This piece of shit.”

Haru picked up his phone when it rang again. “Makoto.”

“Haru! Where have you been?”

“Practice,” he replied, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the table.

“Makoto, what the hell is this?” Rin cried.

“Oh, hi, Rin!” He laughed nervously. “I guess you’re reading it.”

Haru flinched when Rin’s balled fists pressed hard to his stomach. “How the _hell_ would he know this?!”

> _From the Grapevine: Rin Matsuoka_
> 
> _We all want to believe that Rin Matsuoka and Haruka Nanase will, despite all criticism, find themselves in the winner’s circle next year in Rio. Newbies taking the international stage by storm, charming for the camera—Matsuoka, at least—_

“That’s not nice,” Haru mumbled.

> _but what will be the price of victory?_
> 
> _A recent graduate of Samezuka Academy, the high school circuit’s “swimming powerhouse,” Matsuoka had a shaky start. You wouldn’t have given him a second glance—originally slated to participate in the medley relay his second year, he was pulled from the team at the last moment. And he didn’t place at all in regionals, which tells me there’s more to our charming would-be Olympian than what meets the eye._

“Haru? Rin?” Makoto’s voice rang distantly over the speakerphone. “You guys still there?”

“Hang on,” Haru replied. When Rin began to grit his teeth, Haru automatically stroked his hair.

> _What is Nanase to him? A emotional tale of childhood friends turned lovers, or merely a good luck charm? They make no secret of their falling out in high school, only to be reunited in a touching relay where, incidentally, Nanase’s Iwatobi High School placed first only to be disqualified—by including a notable member of, you guessed it, Samezuka Academy._

“I can’t read this anymore,” Haru said, pushing the laptop away. But Rin squinted to finish reading. Haru glanced at the end, though, noting how it didn’t mention their final year of high school at all—as if they were defined solely by Rin’s failures.

> _Is Matsuoka’s strength all his own, or does Nanase continue to be his driving force?_

“This piece of shit.” Rin slammed a fist on the table.

“Rin,” Makoto said carefully.

“Who cares?” Haru replied. “He’s looking for controversy.”

“You are _not_ a good luck charm!” He tore away from Haru, storming back to the counter for their dinner. “And how the hell does he know I got pulled from that relay? Who gives a shit?”

“I- I’m sorry,” Makoto stammered. “I saw it, and I had to tell you—”

“It’s fine,” Haru interrupted. He took Makoto off speakerphone. “I guess these things will happen.” Rin punched the side of the fridge.

“Tell Rin not to let it get to him,” Makoto said. “Celebrities always have to deal with this. Look at the tabloids! All that stuff is made up!”

“Yeah.” Haru watched Rin at the counter, slapping their steaks onto plates and grumbling over forgetting to make rice. He tore through the fridge, pleased with himself to find leftover mixed vegetables in the back. “We have to eat,” Haru finally said, when Rin brought their food to the table.

Haru tried to comfort him through dinner, though it did little to help. He ate one-handed, constantly touching Rin’s leg or his arm with the other. Rin would halfheartedly kiss his hand, but then go back to stabbing his steak with his fork.

But he calmed some when Haru stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, slowly exhaling when Haru kissed him. “People are going to look for things,” Haru said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But _that_ ”—he pointed to the laptop with his steak knife—“is bullshit. You know how many people read that blog?”

Haru shrugged. “Then prove them wrong.”

Finally, the smirk returned to Rin’s face. He peered at Haru as he chewed, sitting back as he speared a carrot. Haru stretched his legs to rest a foot in Rin’s lap; Rin massaged the ankle as they continued to eat.

 _Prove them wrong_. He had to prove it to himself first, throwing a quick entry on their blog as Haru cleaned up dinner. It had no direct correlation to the article but spoke of both their success, their continued training for the championship meet in Tokyo. _Haru’s going for the 800-meter this time_ , he wrote, watching Haru’s back as he scrubbed the broiler pan. Haru’s hair stuck up, where Rin had mussed it when they’d kissed after eating. And his eyes trailed down his back—he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt back on—staring at the ties of the apron around his waist, his track pants low on his hips.

“Hurry it up,” Rin said, closing the laptop. “I need to make out with you.”

Rin reached for him before Haru had even settled onto his lap.

“Good luck charm my ass,” Rin muttered. He tugged off Haru's pants, shedding his own clothes before urging Haru to the floor. Haru’s hands touched his body, winding around from his chest to his backside, pulling their hips together. Rin loved the feel of Haru’s trunks, the fabric tight against his body, stretching the band to snake a hand up his bare thigh.

“We have practice tomorrow,” Haru said, slipping his own hand into the back of Rin’s underwear.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Can we at least go to bed?”

First, they showered, the scent of the pool wafting off their skin, scrubbing each other’s hair. Haru paid special attention to Rin’s back, tracing his spine over and over with the sponge because he shuddered each time, a hand pressed to the wall when Haru kissed his shoulder blades. And when Rin dried Haru with a towel he did it slowly, down his chest, over his erection, crouching to dry his legs and kiss the place between them.

“I’m dry enough,” Haru said, as Rin came up to kiss his lips. He pushed back Rin’s damp hair as he eased him to bed, kissing his neck and his jaw as Rin’s legs opened automatically, grunting when Haru pressed against him. Haru whispered his name, kissing his ear, as Rin stared at the ceiling, feeling Haru’s smile against his throat. “You’re _my_ good luck charm,” Haru said, squeezing the water from Rin’s hair.

“Hn?”

Haru sat up, stroking Rin’s angled thighs, staring down between them as his hands followed. “I’m here because of you.”

“Haru—”

Rin sucked in a breath when Haru kissed his inner thigh, one hand sliding farther between his legs.

“Romantic,” Rin muttered as he lifted his hips.

Haru kissed his chest. “Your fault.”

Rin gripped hard to Haru’s hips as he entered him, digging his nails into his skin but slowly, gently, releasing him.

_Is Matsuoka’s strength all his own, or does Nanase continue to be his driving force?_

Rin arched up to meet Haru’s kiss, sucking his lower lip as Haru gently moved within him, and Rin _knew_. Knew from the way Haru looked at him, to the way he smiled and asked if he was okay (that wasn’t just about the sex, either, but Rin assured him, _yes_ , it was amazing) that he constantly channeled Haru’s inner strength. That Rin may have trained him to be physically strong, to build muscle mass, but as Rin held those sculpted biceps he _knew_ Haru had given him so much more.

Haru kissed the corner of his eye and Rin’s arms wrapped around him, holding him closer, urging him in deeper.

But this was not luck. This was passion and inspiration, mutual support; this man over him, within him, was his lover, his motivation. His husband.

One day.

“I love you,” Rin whispered against his lips, unsure whose shudder he felt, their bodies and their souls connected by no mere thread.

 

* * *

 

Rin fell asleep quickly.

Haru liked when Rin fell asleep first. He looked so content, so relaxed, with one part of him or another reaching for Haru—either his hands or his cold feet—and Haru enjoyed listening to his soft, steady breathing.

He’d never forgotten that relay. To have Rin swim with them again stirred up emotions he hadn’t felt in years and he knew, even at the time, that Rin had also been changed. Haru lightly kissed his forehead, then did it again, never tiring of the feel of Rin’s skin beneath his lips.

“Hn. Haru.”

He peered down at Rin’s bleary, half-sleep gaze. “Did I wake you?”

Rin shrugged—the obvious answer being _yes_ , he had—but Haru snuggled closer, an arm draped over Rin’s body and his lips rested on his shoulder.

“Rin . . .”

He’d sensed Haru’s hesitation. Rin lifted his head, just enough so Haru could see his eyes, the rest of his face hidden behind his own deltoids.

“That race.”

How, after so many years, could Rin still react so harshly to those mere words, knowing exactly what race Haru spoke of? How his averted his eyes and curled his fingers around Haru’s side, like he still required that support? “What about it?”

Haru stroked his hair, watched Rin close his eyes, and wondered if he’d fallen asleep again. But when he looked back up his eyes were wide, almost frightened, like he knew exactly what Haru was going ask. “What if we hadn’t found you?”

The wound wasn’t just raw—it had been reopened, oozing, that blog entry the blade that pieced his heart. Rin rolled onto his side to face the wall but Haru immediately held onto him, nuzzling the back of his neck. Rin fought to keep his breathing steady, rattled and uneven.

“He’s right,” Rin said.

“Hmm?”

He sat up then, legs dangling over the side of the bed as he faced the wall. Haru wondered if he saw anything at all, staring aimlessly at the haphazard mess of suspended wedding plans. “I’m not strong.”

“That’s bullshit.” Rin had burrowed himself so deep into Haru’s psyche that he hardly registered the words weren’t his own, merely something else they’d absorbed from each other. But he sat up, resting a hand to Rin’s spine, feeling his deep inhalation.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rin asked, refusing to turn around. “I was always weak without you. In high school—”

“We’re not in high school anymore.”

Rin lowered his head. He clenched his fists between his spread knees, nails digging into his palms. He relaxed slightly when Haru kissed his back, gently trailing up to the nape of his neck.

“Let’s take a bath,” Haru said, climbing off the bed.

“We already bathed tonight.”

Haru was already halfway to the doorway. “Don’t care.”

* * *

 

Through the wall Rin could hear the creak of the faucet, then the splash of water into the tub. He stared at the empty space between the photos of Australia, tempted to take them down completely, but he listened to Haru move around the bathroom— _their_ bathroom—and he couldn’t find the energy to even lift his arm to tear them down. Or the will.

Haru knocked on the wall, the sign that the bath was ready. They had signs; they’d elevated to silent communication.

Haru was already in the tub when he entered the bathroom, cold and naked, and the warm water was greatly welcomed. Haru slid back so Rin could sit between his legs and he curled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Haru and allowing him to stroke his hair.

“Who cares if it’s true?” Haru asked.

Rin inclined his head.

“Isn’t that the _point?_ ” Haru went on. “We give each other strength.”

Rin couldn’t meet those eyes, not now—so full of determination, full of _anything_ , a sentiment Rin didn’t feel at all. “But it’s not balanced. You give more than I do. I can’t do anything—”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Haru held him tighter, so tight that Rin felt not just Haru’s heart but his entire body pulsing.

He sensed that Haru wanted to say something further but bit his tongue, kissing Rin’s head instead. Rin finally looked up and he thought there were tears in Haru’s eyes, but it could have just been bathwater.

When they finally went to bed, again, Haru fell asleep first. Rin enjoyed watching him—he looked younger somehow, with his damp hair and slightly parted lips. Rin gently kissed those lips and Haru hugged his pillow tighter.

Rin rubbed his chest as he lay back, staring at the shadows across the ceiling.

Even so, success meant building upon your own strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/90273510068) on tumblr.)


	11. Chapter 11

Most mornings, Rin would have to pull Haru out of bed for their run—sometimes literally. But today Rin slipped out of bed, unaware that Haru was already awake, and quietly dressed. The mattress dipped slightly under Rin’s weight when he sat on the corner, bending to tie his sneakers. Haru hadn’t yet opened his eyes but he knew each of Rin’s movements, knew exactly when he’d walked out the bedroom, and it wasn’t until he heard the soft click of the front door closing did he sit up in bed. He looked to the pillow beside him—no note.

Haru had breakfast ready for his return—precisely an hour later—and Rin thanked him, teasing about how he’d slept in. Haru opted not to mention that he’d spent a half hour simply sitting in bed, in denial that Rin had left without him.

“I was tired,” Haru said lamely, fidgeting with his chopsticks.

Then, while Haru bathed, Rin poked his head in to say he’d be heading to the gym early, and Haru knew it would be fruitless to argue. “Gotta bulk up again for that meet next month,” he said, though Rin was consistently muscular, and Haru needed to maintain his muscle mass, too.

Then, for the second time that day, he listened to the click of the front door as Rin left alone. Haru sunk down into the water, blowing bubbles through his nose. If Rin believed that he wouldn’t go to the gym at all, just because they didn’t walk there together, he was a bigger idiot than Haru had thought.

But when Haru entered the weight room at his usual time, Rin’s grinning face greeted him from above the pull-up bar where he hung suspended.

“Spot me?” Haru asked, motioning to the bench press, and Rin leaped down and stretched his arms behind him.

“Let’s do it.”

As Haru lay on the bench he looked up at Rin looming over him, his T-shirt straining across his muscles and his hair pulled into a low ponytail. _It’s getting too long_ , Haru thought, staring at the bit of hair that brushed his neck.

“Ready?” Rin asked, and Haru clenched the bar.

Rin kept his hands right below the bar, palm-side up, as if balancing an invisible weight; the first lift was always hardest for Haru as he got into position. And while he knew Rin would catch it if it dropped—he’d stopped dropping it a while back now—he still felt an uneasiness as he pushed the bar upward. He focused on Rin’s smile but it was different than usual, usually so fond, pleased that they were doing something together . . .

“Oi, Haru!”

He hadn’t dropped it, not necessarily, because Rin’s hands had been right there. The bar clanked back into its restraints and Rin brushed his hands on his shorts, like the save had been effortless. “Let’s take off some of this weight.”

“No.” Haru shook his head as he grabbed the bar again.

All his focus was on the weight now. He homed in on the muscles in his shoulders and his chest, feeling the burn of his arms as he lifted. Rin’s hands consistently hovered right below the bar, near the ends, but Haru had it. Rin quietly counted reps aloud, urging him to do _just one more_. Haru grunted; it felt like his pecs would rip open with the effort. Rin grabbed the bar to help return it to its holder, then Haru slumped back onto the bench.

“We need one of these at home,” Rin said.

Haru tilted his head back, looking at him upside-down. _“Why?”_

Rin slowly scaled his body, a smirk playing at his lips. Haru had gone limp with that last rep, arms and legs slung over the sides of the bench. His chest was already heaving with exertion, visible through his flimsy T-shirt. “Because you look fucking hot.”

“Cut it out.” He sat up with a grunt.

“Here,” Rin said, plunking his water bottle on the bench between his thighs. “Drink some water.” That was one command that Rin especially knew was unnecessary.

They spent longer than usual in the weight room. Haru stretched during the extra time Rin worked the machines, watching, aware of how often Rin admired himself in the mirrors. Sometimes he’d catch Haru’s eye and grin, but didn’t yet join him at the cool down station.

“I’m going home,” Haru finally said, after stretching his quads yet again. “I’ll make lunch.”

Rin hardly looked up as he stacked more weight onto a barbell. “Sounds good, babe.”

 

* * *

 

It was stupid how much Haru was stressing over the meal. He’d stopped at the grocery for pork, mixed it with some cold noodles, but it didn’t seem like enough—he had to do _more_.

“It’s just lunch,” he muttered to himself, wiping his hands on his apron. He set the table, arranging one platter in the middle and spending too long arranging each of their place settings.

He tried to ignore the small part of him that was aware Rin was home later than usual. He closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy, retiring to his corner by the window. It felt like an age since he’d occupied the corner alone; he’d allowed the apartment to slowly absorb it, the slow progression to their mutual space. Some of Rin’s books were on his shelf and Haru merely stared at them, wondering if that meant he should read them. Instead, he opened his sketchbook.

The pencil almost felt foreign in his hand, having not used it in months. He looked down at the blank page with no ideas, knowing only that he needed this release, needed _something_ to clear his mind of Rin's absence.

 _Home_. A horizon line, then the gentle waves lapping the shore, then a boardwalk, stretching off the page.

Iwatobi, of course. A simple beach, a wooden hut selling sweets during the summer. And five tiny figures in the water—no, make that six, one with a long ponytail—and he erased one because he seemed too far away, redrawing him near the sketch’s center, right beside the figure with the messy black hair. Smiling. Arms raised in the air . . .

Haru pulled a box of colored pencils from the shelf.

A small rainbow extending from his fingers. His hair a deep red . . .

His head jerked up when the front door opened.

“Rin!”

Like he’d been surprised.

Even Rin just stood there a moment, staring at him, his hand still on the knob.

“I made lunch.”

Rin hardly even glanced at the platters on the table as he strode for Haru, picking him up off the floor and into his arms. Haru instinctively clutched around his shoulders.

“Rin—!”

Rin kissed his lips possessively and, though Haru was hungry, allowed Rin to carry him to the bedroom. He grunted when dropped to the bed, and already Rin’s hand was sliding up his shirt as the other pinned Haru’s wrist to the mattress.

“Don’t.” Haru jerked at his wrist and, mercifully, Rin released it, moving to the band of his track pants instead.

There was one thing to say about a wardrobe full of sweats and track pants—it was less uncomfortable when he suddenly got hard, and easier to shuck them off. Rin kissed Haru’s bare hip, yanking his trunks down with his teeth and wasting no time as he began to suck him.

Haru threw a forearm across his mouth, trying to squelch the groan that suddenly escaped, feeling Rin’s vibrating laughter. Rin pushed his legs open farther, his hands working between them. Haru’s skin was slick with saliva, both cooled by the open air and warmed by Rin’s touch. He slid one hand farther back and Haru gripped his shoulder, ready to push back—they were _not_ going to have sex, not now—but Rin only teased him, gently massaging beneath his balls.

“Rin . . .”

They had to eat lunch, then Haru had to teach a swim lesson, and he was _starving_. But his body began to shudder, his blood furiously pumping now with Rin’s mouth around him, with Rin’s hand between his legs. Embarrassment flushed his skin when he realized he _couldn’t last_ , that it had hardly been five minutes before Rin was sitting back and swallowing his release.

Haru couldn’t catch his breath. He gripped at his T-shirt, feeling the thump of his chest and the tingling of his thighs. Rin kiss his belly before sliding off the bed.

“Let’s eat,” he said.

But Haru grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to the bed. He kissed him hard, tasting his own sweat and salt on Rin’s lips, grabbing his ass and grinding his naked skin against Rin’s leg. He wouldn’t let up until Rin moaned, nipping his lip before pulling away. “Give me my pants,” Haru said, and Rin smirked as he tossed them in his face.

They were quiet during lunch. Rin showered immediately after cleanup, not even kissing Haru goodbye, even though Haru would leave to teach before Rin was done bathing. Haru stared at the empty table, listened to the spurt of the shower as it turned on, then got ready for the lesson.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m leaving,” he said, swim bag slung over his shoulder.

“’Kay,” Rin replied. “See you at practice.”

Haru paused when he turned, glanced back at the bathroom door, then left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

When Rin arrived to the swim club Haru was still in the pool, finishing up his class. Rin felt good: A long workout followed by Haru’s excellent cooking—and Haru himself, he thought with a smirk—and though practice wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes, Rin instantly claimed an empty lane and dived in.

A couple warm-up laps, that was all. Haru was on the other end of the pool with his students. Though his face held the same indifferent expression as usual, the kids never stopped vying for his attention. It seemed they understood his quiet nature, not that it stopped them from pestering him. Rin smiled to himself. Not only was he good with the kids, but certainly his new popularity contributed as well.

Not that Rin would take the credit for _that_ , but . . .

“Matsuoka-sensei!”

Rin looked up when he stopped at the end of the lane, peering into the face of a girl from Haru’s class. She couldn’t have been more than six years old, her blue swimsuit hugging her chubby frame. She clasped her hands behind her back, grinning as she bounced on her toes.

“Come race with Nanase-sensei!”

Rin looked over. The kids were clambering out of the pool, Haru shouting for them to use the ladder _one at a time_. He turned back to the girl. “Man, I’m sorry! We’re about to start practice. But you’ll stay and watch for a bit, right?”

She had pouted at his refusal, but quickly lit up when he’d mentioned practice. “I’ll ask my dad!” She bowed before rushing off.

It wasn’t until he pulled himself from the pool that he noticed the mass of children around Haru, as if waiting, and then Haru said something to them and they slowly dispersed.

But worse was Haru’s expression—he stared directly at Rin, no playful smile or flushed cheeks at all, like the other times they’d lock eyes across the pool. There was nothing at all as he turned, grabbing his swim cap and goggles off a nearby bench.

_What the hell was that?_

But Rin didn’t have time to analyze Haru’s emotional state. Coach was coming out from the locker room, clipboard in hand, calling over the potential swimmers for the Tokyo championship. Rin was buzzing, sidling up beside Haru and nudging his shoulder as they listened. _Finally_ , there was Haru’s small smile as he listened to Coach.

“For you guys who plan to enter in a relay, that’s what you’re doing today. Team up and get started.”

Fujioka hurried over, Yazaki close behind, but Rin lifted his head and said, “Hey, Coach? I planned on working my individual today.”

Fujioka stopped short, and Yazaki nearly walked right into his back.

Coach frowned. “Up to your team, really.”

“I’m fine with that,” Fujioka said, unconvincingly.

“Yeah!” Yazaki chimed in. “We can practice together tomorrow, no biggie.”

Haru avoided all their eyes, staring instead at the clear water of the pool. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied, breaking from the team and claiming an empty lane.

Rin watched him disappear beneath the water before turning to the coach, asking if he could time his one-hundred meter. Coach readily agreed.

It was an unspoken pact that they’d swim beside each other, one their fellow swimmers even understood as they cleared the lane beside Haru. Rin stood on the starting block, stretching his triceps, watching Haru glide through the water. It _was_ a glide, especially from his overhead view. He effortlessly swam faster than the others, not even breathing hard after finishing his two laps. Haru looked up, eyes hidden behind his goggles, and Rin winked at him as Coach’s whistle blew.

The water still moved around him, unsettled with Haru’s swim, and Rin rode the wave as he carved a path down his own lane. _His_ lane, his strength, pushing himself harder and forcing his sore muscles to _move_. His arms burned from the morning workout, but it felt _good_. He knew the others watched him. It only made him move faster, and he saw Haru in the pool, still rooted to his spot, waiting for him. Always waiting for him. Silently cheering him on, swelling with pride for _him_ , the man he would marry.

Haru was still there when Rin completed the lap.

“Looks good, Matsuoka,” Coach said.

“Did I beat my best?”

He shook his head. “Close. Keep going.”

Rin turned to clap Haru on the shoulder, but he’d already disappeared beneath the water.

 

* * *

 

Rin didn’t want to practice the relay the following day, either, nor for the remainder of the week. Fujioka tried to get just the three of them working, but it was hard without their butterfly leg. Not only was Haru unaccustomed to Yazaki’s handoff—he’d never had to swim following the breaststroke; his dive was often delayed—and it wasn’t right, not seeing Rin swimming toward him. Not watching him lift his eyes, seeking out Haru who waited for him.

Relay practice didn’t last long. They split into their individuals not long after making the attempt.

Instead, Haru tested his endurance. His times improved for the fifteen-hundred meter, swimming nonstop. He only paused when his muscles felt they would give out, which was long after he’d completed the required distance.

Fourteen minutes and thirty-one seconds: The current world record for the fifteen-hundred meter. And though he wasn’t there yet, he had time. There was still a year. And by the time they got to Tokyo, the eight-hundred meter would feel like nothing at all.

“Haru!”

He panted as he looked up at Rin, who stood at his lane with a hand on his hip. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Haru squinted. Rin was wearing those awful zebra-print jammers he’d agreed to, the pink-and-black stripes nearly blinding in the late-afternoon sun. “Don’t wanna.”

Rin frowned. “C’mon, I’ve been working my ass off! I need to have some fun.”

Haru averted his gaze. He stared at his hands gripping the pool edge, his knuckles white. He hadn’t realized he was holding it that hard. He lowered his head as he hid his hands beneath the water.

“Haru?”

“Then go,” he said, turning back to swim despite his exhaustion.

Not for the first time that day, he considered Rin wouldn’t be there for him. He didn’t want to admit his unsurprised that Rin wasn’t in the locker room after practice. He slumped to a bench in his damp jammers, staring at their shared locker. It took all his effort to get up and take a shower, and he dried slowly and before shoving his belongings into his bag.

But he stopped short when he stepped outside, seeing Rin sitting on a bench and checking his phone. His back was to the door, so he didn’t see Haru at first. Haru took deep breaths to still his pounding heart, dropping his bag to the ground as he sat close on the bench. He glanced at Rin’s phone, only catching Makoto’s name on the outgoing message before Rin put it in his pocket.

“We can have fun at home,” Haru said, as if there had been no delay in conversation.

Rin nudged his shoulder. “What _kind_ of fun, Haru?”

He didn’t feel like _that_ , either, but couldn't be bothered to reply. He rested his hands on his knees, mindlessly rubbing the crinkling fabric of his pants. “Want to rent a movie? I’m too tired to do anything.”

Rin draped an arm around his shoulders, and his temple warmed when a light kiss was pressed to it. He didn’t even care that others were leaving the club at that moment, likely witnessing the whole transaction. “Sure.”

Haru didn’t care _what_ movie they watched—he let Rin pick at the rental machine—and both were too exhausted to cook, too, so they picked up pad thai on the way home. Haru fluffed up his corner of the floor with the blanket and pillows from the bed while Rin propped his laptop on the table to watch the movie. And it was good—slinging his legs across Rin’s lap as they ate from plastic cartons, occasionally feeding each other. Haru had expected a romantic film but it was something action-packed with a lot of explosions. Action movies bored him but he watched, anyway.

He nestled to Rin’s shoulder and enjoyed the pulse of his skin, the slight shift of his muscles as he ate. It was infinitely more interesting than the movie. He stared at Makoto’s scrapbook on the bookshelf across the room, remembering the one Gou was currently constructing of their rise to fame.

“Rin,” he said, “let’s take a picture together.”

 _“Now?”_ He kissed Haru’s forehead. “After the movie, all right? We’re getting to the good part.”

He hadn’t been paying attention. There was a girl on-screen he couldn’t remember being there before, and she seemed important. Haru set aside his empty takeout container, curled tighter against Rin's body, and promptly fell asleep.

 

They’d completely forgotten about the photo. But Haru woke in bed the next morning, his pillow under his head and the blanket tucked around his shoulders. And though his heart lurched when the other side of the bed was empty, he realized soon after that the shower was running and Rin was singing something in English on the other side of the wall.

He sat up when Rin strode back into the room, wearing a towel over his head and—Haru glanced at his damp body—nothing else.

“Ah, you’re up!” He rubbed his hair dry as he moved to the wardrobe.

“You went running without me again?”

He hadn’t meant to ask. Rin paused only briefly before the wardrobe, which Haru would’ve missed completely if he hadn’t been intently watching. Now, the hangers clinked against one another as Rin flipped through them, and Haru was more focused on Rin’s bare ass. _It’s a nice ass_ , he thought, resisting the urge to slide out of bed to grab it.

“You needed the sleep,” Rin said, stepping into his jammers. “You didn’t last through half the movie.”

“I want to practice the relay.”

Rin pulled a pair of pants over his swimsuit and sat on the bed facing him, shirtless, which Haru wished he wouldn’t do. He sat so close, close enough for Haru to reach out and touch him, to feel the muscles flex beneath his skin . . .

“Our individuals are important,” Rin said. “We’re heading to Tokyo in a couple weeks, remember?”

“Of _course_ I remember!”

Rin was startled backward, hands on the mattress behind him, leaning back like Haru would attack. But Haru didn’t move—the crease between his brows deepened, his mouth downturned in an exaggerated frown. “The _relay_ is important! We can qualify for the Olympics at this meet for the _relay_. Why are you training by yourself?”

“Because I can do better!”

Rin jerked away, yanking a T-shirt from the open wardrobe without bothering to check whose it was. It was tight around the shoulders when he pulled it on, realizing too late that it was Haru’s, but not caring as he rushed out of the bedroom.

“Rin, don’t leave me!”

Haru tumbled out of bed, tangled in the blanket, stumbling to the main room with the bedding trailing behind. But Rin’s expression immobilized him when he reached the doorway—the unadulterated _fear_ in his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest to stop them from shaking.

His voice was barely audible. “I’m not . . . leaving.”

Haru ripped the blanket off from around his legs, awkwardly balling it in his arms to chuck it back toward the bed. He was still wearing the clothes from the previous night and that angered him, too—it was stupid, he knew—because Rin had changed no less than three times already, and he stood there in the same exact clothes he’d worn after swim practice the previous day.

“Then stop acting like it!”

Haru tore off his shirt as he stormed back into the bedroom, needing to take off those clothes, _now_. He wanted Rin to follow but knew he would just stand there, trying not to cry, listening to Haru rip through the wardrobe for something to wear. They were in desperate need to do laundry, again, and this only upset him more, knowing all his favorite shirts were sitting on the bottom of the hamper.

“Haru.”

He’d only gotten as far as Rin’s old Samezuka track pants—his own from high school wouldn’t fit over his newly-sculpted thighs—before Rin’s fingertips brushed his spine, his hands resting on Haru’s hips. His face was damp when he pressed it between Haru's shoulder blades.

“If you want to swim with me,” Haru said, fighting to keep his voice even, “then fucking _swim_ with me.”

“I’m not strong enough,” he whispered, his voice muffled.

“What are you—”

“I have to get stronger. I have to stand on my own.”

Disgusted, Haru shoved Rin’s hands off his hips. He refused to look when Rin whimpered, digging through the wardrobe for a shirt instead. “Is this about that stupid blog entry?”

“But it’s true!” He sat on the bed, hiding his face in both his hands.

“Rin.” Haru sighed, turning around without having found a suitable shirt. He stepped between Rin’s spread knees, prying his hands away to see his face. He’d been prepared for the tearstains down his cheeks, but it didn’t make it any easier when he saw them. “We make each other stronger.”

Rin’s nod was barely perceptible.

“That’s why I’m here,” Haru said, taking a step closer. “Idiot.”

It wasn’t obvious whether Rin emitted a chuckle or a sob. He pressed his damp face to Haru’s skin, lightly kissing him. They were small pecks at first, almost cautious. But then he pulled Haru closer and kissed his stomach, his hips, up his side. He slid back onto the bed and pulled Haru on top of him, intent on kissing his lips, deep and exploratory. Haru immediately grinded against his hips when Rin slung a leg around him.

“Never do that again,” Haru said.

Rin froze, one hand on the back of Haru’s neck, the other en route to his ass. “Huh?”

“I didn’t like it the first time.”

Haru’s stare bore into Rin’s confused expression. He could read the uncertainty of _when he’d done that before_ , and could almost see the gears moving in his head as he chronologically worked backward. Before training, before graduation; before they’d stared dating; before . . . the relay . . .

Even Haru thought he might cry when the realization struck Rin, the crystal clarity in his eyes, the way his hair swept across his face as he shook his head. “No. _No_.”

Haru softly kissed his lower lip, an attempt to stop it from trembling. “Let’s skip practice today.”

It took a little convincing, but all Haru had to do was wander the apartment in a towel after his bath, his hair damp and unruly. He came up behind Rin as he washed the breakfast dishes, causing him to drop them into the sink with a rattle. Rin had since put on a shirt, but now Haru played at its hem.

“We’re doing double laps tomorrow,” Rin said, as Haru snapped the waistband of his pants.

“Fine.”

The wounds hadn’t entirely healed but they fell back into bed—but not before Haru put on a load of laundry—and their clothes were discarded soon after, their minds cleared of time trials and relays and distant memories. They focused only on the summer breeze through the window, the gentle swish of the washer, and the feel of each other huddled beneath the sheets. Rin overcompensated in his silent apologies, pressing innumerable kisses across Haru’s skin and easing him back to kneel between his legs.

“We’re not having sex,” Haru said, holding Rin’s thighs.

Rin’s pout was comically exaggerated. “Why not?”

“Double laps.”

“You know, Haru . . .” Rin lay on top of him, reaching for both his hands to twine their fingers together. “When this is all over?”

“This is going to end?”

Rin shrugged as he kissed Haru’s collarbone. “Maybe. But I’ll expect a lot of sex.”

“Hmm.”

He lifted his head, playfully bumping his groin against Haru’s. “If you’ll still marry me.”

Haru stared at those playful, expectant eyes, hesitating like he actually had to consider it. “Is that your new proposal?”

“Don’t insult me.” Rin kissed the hollow of his throat. “You know I can do better than that.”

They ate lunch sitting in bed, not a stitch of clothing beneath the sheets, feeding each other beef and rice as the laptop played a movie they ignored. Rin would peck his lips between bites; Haru _hmph_ ed in protest when there was still food in his mouth. But he’d always return that kiss tenfold, leaving traces of spice on Rin’s lips or his hands or his shoulder.

“A man could get used to this,” Rin said, as Haru held his chopsticks out again.

Rin sucked the beef of his chopsticks and closed his eyes. Haru waited for him to swallow, massaging Rin’s thigh as he replied, “Good thing you’re not much of a man.”

“Haru!” Rin scrambled onto his lap as Haru held the food away, intent not to spill it on the bed.

“Cut it out!” Haru cried, failing to hold the bowl from Rin’s reach. He held tight to Haru one-armed, grabbing the bowl to set it on the bedside table. And then Rin tickled him, ignoring the thrashing of his legs and the palms flat on his chest, trying to push him back, the air filled with the clear, divine sound of Haru’s laugh. “You . . . will . . . pay!”

“Try me!”

But when Haru managed to push him to the bed he only kissed him, with the aftershock of laughter and the sheets tangled around them. It was a draw—Rin melted into the mattress with the sudden shift to intimacy, with Haru’s naked skin against his.

“You have a beautiful smile,” Rin said, sweeping Haru’s fringe from his forehead.

“My stomach hurts,” he said with a huff, rolling off Rin as he held his belly. Rin kissed his hip when Haru sat up again to reach for his water bottle.

 

* * *

 

They returned to practice rejuvenated, their teammates relieved that Rin finally stopped being stubborn and _wanted_ to practice with them again.

“This guy missed me,” he said, jerking his head toward Haru, who only rolled his eyes in response.

The coming weeks were nothing but constant practices and last-minute preparations before the championships. This would be their last national meet before the Olympic time trials, not that they needed to remind each other. The countdown was in the back of their minds, that common goal, the fruition of the years of countless workouts and practices and competitions. They shot another advertisement before heading to Tokyo, this time for Sports Zero—they wore their store-brand swimsuits, and their faces would appear in store windows and catalogues.

“Haru,” Rin said, tugging on his arm at the shoot, “who would’ve thought you’d be _modeling_?”

“It’s just a catalogue,” he protested.

But Sports Zero customers weren’t the only ones to notice the new faces in the catalogue—as they ate dinner one night, Rin received a call from a speedboat manufacturer. They were insistent on getting him in their advertisements as well, steering their boats on the crisp, open water in only his swimsuit.

But he was wary about accepting. “We’re doing this together,” he told Haru, after hanging up the phone. “I want you there.”

“They don’t want me,” Haru said. “You do it. You’re charming, or whatever they’re looking for.”

Rin clung to Haru’s arm and batted his eyes. “You think I’m _charming_?”

Haru wasn’t surprised that they ended up on the floor together, their mackerel abandoned—for the moment—and his skin wet with Rin’s kisses.

He’d accepted the offer, after much insisting from Haru, his only stipulation being they couldn’t start shooting until after the championship. And the company was thrilled—if Rin swam like he did at the Australia meet, and in all the regional races thereafter, it could only bode well for them both.

 

* * *

 

They still opted to crash on Makoto’s floor for the championship meet, despite their sponsors offering a hotel. His room wasn’t huge, Makoto had said, but he knew they wouldn’t mind being a little cozy. Gou would take the ride out as well, her university being only twenty minutes away. Even though Rin was thrilled to see his sister, he hadn’t failed to notice her hazy plans over where she’d stay.

“Gou,” Rin said carefully over the phone, “where are you sleeping?”

“Oh, Brother,” she replied with a huff. “Don’t give me that tone. Makoto’s floor is fine for me, too.”

It was the way she said it that made him lift an eyebrow, like she’d done it before, but he’d had other matters to attend to at the time—such as Haru spending the last fifteen minutes deciding which jammers to pack.

 

But the moment they settled onto the train, as it wheezed out of the station, Rin blurted, “What’s going on with Makoto and my sister?”

“Hmm?” Haru hadn’t even sat up yet from stowing his bag beneath the seat. He studied Rin carefully—he didn’t appear angry, but that didn’t mean something wouldn’t bubble to the surface. Haru, however, was clueless as he sat back into the seat. “They’re friends?”

“Any chance he likes her?”

Haru turned to the window, already bored of idle gossip. “I don’t know. Ask him.”

“You can’t just ask a guy if he likes your sister! You ask him!”

Haru waited a long moment before replying, “Fine.”

But the opportunity hadn’t arose, not when they train pulled into Tokyo Station and they got lost finding the exit. “Damn train stations,” Rin mumbled, dragging Haru along by the wrist. But the moment they stepped outside Makoto was waving at them from an illegally-parked car, the engine still running. He offered them both quick hugs before stashing their bags in the trunk.

One of his housemates let him borrow the car, he’d explained, as they piled in. “The house isn’t too far from here,” Makoto said, “but it would be a lot to walk with your luggage.”

Rin was mesmerized by the passing city, but Haru claimed it didn’t look any different than Kyoto. “A city is a city,” he said, catching Makoto’s smile in the rearview mirror.

“What about that, then?” Rin said, leaning over him to point out the window. In the distance, spied between the alleys as they passed, was the familiar skylights of a natatorium.

Haru pressed a hand to the window, his eyes following the sight until it disappeared behind the buildings. “That’s different.”

Makoto’s rented house was small, but each of its four residents had their own rooms. Two of the guys played video games in the common room, waving as their housemate passed, hardly noticing his visitors. Makoto motioned for Rin and Haru to follow upstairs. There were only two bedrooms on the third floor, he explained, and his hallmate was pretty quiet.

Makoto’s room barely fit a desk and a bed, but he said he didn’t mind the cramped quarters. There was already a futon laid out on the floor, wedged into the available floor space. “Shintaro went home for the week, so he said you guys can stay in his room,” Makoto said, motioning to the half-open door across the hall. “Gou can sleep on my floor, if that’s oka—”

“We’ll stay with you,” Rin interrupted. Haru rolled his eyes.

Gou didn’t appear until late the following day, after Rin and Haru were spent following a mini tour of Tokyo and an afternoon of working out. The other housemates had gone out, leaving them to sprawl across the common room swapping stories of their post-high school lives. Rin immediately noticed that Gou had come to the house unaccompanied, as if the route was familiar. Haru pinched his leg beneath the table when he clenched his jaw.

“Onii-chan!” Gou’s suitcase crashed to the floor as she leaped onto her brother, sending them both tumbling backward to the floor. Haru braced himself for her forthcoming embrace, relieved that it wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, but still surprised when she pecked his cheek.

But they had little time to catch up—qualifying began the next morning, and Makoto and Gou insisted that they’d be there for that as well.

“Make sure you don’t go running in the morning,” Makoto said, and Rin snorted with laughter as Haru glared. Even Gou couldn’t hold back a giggle as Rin planted a kiss on Haru’s cheek.

Despite Rin’s hyped-up energy, and his inability to sit still, he insisted on going to bed early. He made a grand production before going upstairs to shower, kissing both Haru and Gou on the tops of their heads as he circled the table. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, kissed Makoto as well.

“Get out of here,” Haru said, as Makoto smoothed down the back of his hair.

“Don’t forget,” Rin said, pointing an accusing finger at Haru before bounding up the stairs.

“Huh?” Gou sat up straighter. “What is he talking about?”

Haru shrugged. “He’s being annoying.”

But he knew exactly what Rin referred to—he watched Makoto and Gou as they talked, trying to gauge a difference in their manner of speech. It was impossible; they’d both changed with college, and it was getting more difficult to read them. Even though Makoto had a year on her, and Gou had only been at school for a few months, they were different. Older, yes, but also _different_ , an air of independence surrounding them both, creating their own lives outside Iwatobi.

But he’d done the same, he knew—his own independence had been altered, molding around one hyperactive, future Olympian. He smiled to himself as he heard the water rushing through the pipes in the wall.

“What are you smiling about, Haru-nii-san?” But Gou was smiling, too, leaning over the table to grasp both his hands in hers. “Are you nervous?”

He shook his head. “No.”

For what was there to be nervous about? It was only everything he’d always done, surrounded by the same people he’d always known. He looked up at them both, applying a slight pressure to Gou’s hands before she let go. When she sat back she beamed at Makoto, their matching smiles an ease that Haru recognized, one defined by countless hours beside someone who’d changed your life.

“Are you dating?” he suddenly asked.

Makoto’s cheeks instantly flushed. “H-Haru! We’re not—!”

“Idiot!” Gou leaned over to smack his arm. Hard. “You’d know if I started dating _anyone_!”

“I would?” He rubbed the stinging sensation from his arm.

“We’ve been spending some time together,” Makoto admitted. “I showed her around the city when she first got here, and we’ve gone sight-seeing a lot.”

“Yeah!” Gou chimed in. “Rei-kun comes with us sometimes, if he’s not too busy studying.”

“How _is_ Rei?” Haru asked.

They shared that knowing smile again—a conversation spoken only with their eyes and a slight head shake before they both turned to Haru. “He’s good!” Makoto said.

“But really busy,” Gou added.

 _What’s that all about?_ Haru wondered, staring at their cryptic smiles, before rising from the table. “I need the bathroom.” He kept an ear out as he silently climbed the stairs, but neither said anything until, he assumed, he was long out of earshot. _Maybe she’s dating Rei?_ he thought, pushing the idea from his mind as he approached the second floor landing.

But he passed the toilet, rattling the door to the shower room instead. Rin knew it was him—he permitted Haru entrance, turning toward him as Haru slid the door closed.

“Haru,” he teased, wearing that annoying smirk, “how daring of you.”

“Shut up, Rin,” he said, waving him over. As much as Haru would have preferred to shuck off his clothes and join him, he didn’t feel like explaining to Makoto why he was soaking wet after supposedly using the toilet.

Rin didn’t bother with a towel as he stepped over, dripping onto Haru’s shirt, anyway, as he whispered in his ear. “Whaddya find?”

Haru sniffed Rin’s shoulder. Clean, soapy, a little musky. “Did you use Makoto’s soap?”

“Never mind that!” he hissed.

“It’s weird on you,” Haru said, nosing his earlobe.

“Stop that, or I’ll rub myself all over your nice, dry clothes.” But the threat fell hollow as he kissed Haru’s ear. “So what do you want? Or did you just come to check out my dripping wet, perfectly-sculpted body?”

Haru resented how quickly his eyes scaled his figure when Rin backed up, flexing his biceps. “Idiot.” He rested a hand on Rin’s waist, pulling him closer again. “They’re not dating.”

“Good. But does he _like_ her?”

“I don’t know!” Haru hissed. “Should I ask while she’s sitting there?”

“No!”

Haru smirked. The showerhead still pounded water on the tiles, magnified by the absence of a body beneath it. He hadn’t heard anyone ascending the stairs so he _knew_ they were alone, sliding his hand down the side of Rin’s body to his thigh, snaking around toward his ass.

“Haru . . .”

“Don’t get my clothes wet.”

It was too late for that. Rin grabbed his shoulders as they kissed, leaving handprints on his sleeves and soapy residue on his skin. Rin’s damp hair tickled Haru’s nose, a single droplet dripping between their lips.

“I’m going back down,” Haru said, lips still so close that they brushed as he spoke. Rin quickly kissed him once again before nudging him toward the door.

But Haru peered over his shoulder once before leaving, catching Rin flexing as he turned to step back under the water. “Idiot.” He quietly laughed as he left, the sound of the door drowned out by the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who caught the quasi-cameo from my basketball boyfriend? :P
> 
> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/90961080903) on tumblr.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps needless to say, but I wrote this fic (yes, the entire thing) before season 2 started. So there are a lot of things (ie, Sousuke's existence, Rin's captainship) that aren't included. Which is why this is tagged with "canon divergence" now, because it would be too much effort to change so many details.
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying it regardless :P

Their minds were filled with images of the pool, of anticipation for qualifying the following day. Their bodies itched to swim, craving the feel of chlorinated water and competition.

But still, they argued over sleeping arrangements.

Gou found their predetermined arrangements ridiculous, with both Rin and Haru crashing on Makoto’s floor. She insisted it would be _fine_ for her to sleep in his room instead.

“You’d have more space!” she said, as they stood bickering in the upstairs hallway. “Don’t you need space to get ready?”

But Rin wouldn’t have it. “Fine. How about Haru stays with Makoto,” he said, “and I’ll share Shintaro’s room with Gou?”

“Onii-chan!”

“I like that idea,” Makoto admitted. “It might be more comfortable.” He then turned to Haru with a smile. “And we haven’t had a sleepover in years!”

 _Years_. It took little convincing for Haru to relent, and even Gou finally admitted it wouldn’t be so bad to gossip with her big brother.

“As long as I get the bed,” she said, which brought on another round of bickering before Rin threw up his arms in defeat.

Rin and Haru wouldn’t say goodnight until the others retired to their respective rooms, waiting until the doors closed to exchange kisses and murmured whispers.

“See you in the morning,” Rin said, stroking a damp strand of Haru’s hair. Haru nuzzled his cheek, closing his eyes to breathe in his scent, taking in what he could before commencing the first night they hadn’t slept beside in each other in months.

Haru kissed his lips, long and slow, twirling the hair at the base of Rin’s neck. “Goodnight, Rin.”

Haru had to admit, though, that Makoto’s floor _was_ more comfortable alone. He hadn’t realized how stupid the sleeping arrangement the previous night was until they were wedged between the desk and the bed, battling for floor space. He’d been too tired to complain, even though the room across the hall _had_ been empty. But now it housed Rin and his sister, and Haru felt the sudden cold of sleeping alone. Makoto offered him another blanket, as if he knew.

“It’s okay,” Haru said, pulling the covers to his chin. “I’ll get too hot.”

“This is exciting,” Makoto said, as he got into bed. “I’ll get to see you swim again! It’s fun seeing you on TV, but it’ll be even better in person.”

“Have you seen our advertisements?”

“Yeah.” Makoto hid a laugh behind his fist. “I’m still on Sports Zero’s mailing list.” Haru stared up at the ceiling, smiling slightly as he played with a loose thread on the blanket. “Haru, are you okay with everything? You never liked a lot of attention—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, turning his head toward Makoto. “I’m not alone. It’s . . . fun.”

Makoto propped up on his elbow to see him better over the edge of the bed, apparently unconvinced. But Haru was smiling, a vision he still wasn’t used to seeing so often. “Are you and Rin okay?”

Haru lifted a curious eyebrow. “What?”

“You look happy!” he said, too enthusiastically. “But a little . . . I’m not sure.”

Haru looked away. He tried to recall how they’d acted over the past couple days in Makoto's presence, and he thought they’d done a good job acting like the disagreement hadn’t happened. Now, with Makoto staring at him expectantly, he set his head back onto the pillow. “He was acting weird recently.” He paused, then added, “Like he did in high school.”

“Haru . . .”

Haru sat up straight then, the blanket falling off his shoulders as he turned toward the bed. He crossed his legs, leaning his hands behind him as he looked up at Makoto. “Do your parents ever fight?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But they have good communication. Dad always said to never go to bed angry.”

Haru looked down at his lap. “We’re not good at that.”

Now, Makoto slid to the floor, sitting cross-legged before him, his hands on Haru’s knees. “Haru, you’re still getting to know each other.”

He furrowed his brow. “We’ve known each other for seven years.”

“Not like this.” He smiled. “But you’re learning together, and that can be hard. But it’s worth it, right?”

Haru didn’t respond right away, and when he did, it was a slight nod and a small smile in the dark. Makoto squeezed his knee before crawling back into bed, shifting around and repositioning the blanket. Haru, too, settled back, curling onto his side, his back cold despite the covers. There was no audible noise from the room across the hall, but that didn’t mean they, too, weren’t conspiring, Rin baring all his fears and troubles to his poor sister.

“You’ve been living in that small apartment and haven’t killed each other,” Makoto added after they'd settled. “I think you’re doing okay.”

 

* * *

 

Rin would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He felt the same jitters each time he woke on qualifying day, pulling Haru from bed—or in this case, the futon—distracted by the irresistible way he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. And each time Haru got out of bed he’d yawn, complaining it was too early, and Rin patted his butt before disappearing for the shower.

He probably stayed up too late the previous night talking to Gou. Chatting over email was one thing, but it was another to see her face, to witness her expressions first-hand rather than imagine them. He’d been good: He hadn’t asked about a boyfriend, knowing that the presence of one would distract him through qualifying—especially if it was someone he knew. They spoke of college instead, and swimming, and—of course—Haru. About how each race got them closer and closer to the Olympics, and after that . . . he could only grin, imagining the home they’d build together, so much better than their small one-room apartment.

“You _loooove_ him,” Gou had teased, to which Rin chucked a pillow at her face.

But now, as they waited for their rental car—provided by none other than z-Mobile, in lieu of a hotel room—Rin could feel Haru’s buzzing energy, the excitement coursing beneath his skin as they stood close. Rin slung an arm over his shoulders, pecking his cheek as a black limousine pulled in front of the house. They could only stand in wide-eyed shock as the driver got out to open the door for them. Haru came to his senses first to pull Rin into the back of the car.

“Check this out,” Rin said, going for the mini fridge before the door even closed. “Hey, there’s just water in here.”

“Give me one of those,” Haru said, reaching for one of the small bottles.

There was a cardboard box, too, on the floor, which contained a slew of new swim supplies—towel and swimsuits and caps which, as the enclosed letter explained, was “the least they could do.”

“They know me well,” Rin said, pulling out a black-and-red striped towel. “Here, there’s one for you.” He tossed a marbleized blue towel over Haru’s head.

“This is too much,” Haru said, pulling a pair of blue-striped jammers from the box. “How do they know my size?”

Rin broke open a bottle of water and sat back, his new towel strewn across his lap. “Get used to it, babe,” he said, before taking a swig. “This is only the beginning.” He grinned as Haru continued poking through the contents of the box, and then the various controls of the limo. He was curious like a child, poking buttons and marveling at the sunroof when it opened.

As they traveled the length of Tokyo, Haru discovered the controls for the privacy screen. The black barrier slowly lifted between them and the driver and, once they were completely secluded, he wasted no time in kissing Rin.

It was a slow kiss, gentle, fingers through his hair and lips slightly parted. Already Rin’s chest pulsed with the contact, holding him tight as they occupied one seat, the tinted windows concealing them from the outside world.

When the car hit a pothole they were jostled apart, laughing and smiling as they wiped saliva from their lips. But Haru leaned his head on Rin’s shoulder, Rin’s arm firm around him, watching Tokyo pass by.

Rin knew the stadium was in view before he saw it himself—Haru’s eyes widened, his body stiffening as the curved dome of the structure broke the horizon. Rin nudged him across the seat so they could stare out the same window.

“Why didn’t we train _here_?” Haru asked, as they approached the building. Rin jabbed his ribs as the car settled to a stop, quickly kissing him again before the driver opened the door.

A familiar voice greeted them as they stepped out. “Traveling in style, huh?”

Coach grinned at them from the front gate, looking out of place in his tracksuit and clipboard without a pool behind him. Fujioka and Yazaki were close behind, buzzing with the same energy that gripped them all as Rin gave a round of high fives.

“You ready to go?” Rin asked as he turned, but Haru was already pushing past them to get inside.

 

* * *

 

Rin was a natural under the spotlight. Haru wasn’t surprised—he had that flashy smile, the kind that never looked awkward or out of place. He knew how to angle his body when talking to people, not straight-on like Haru did, which made for perfect post-race photographs from countless cameras and angles. No one was surprised that he’d qualified for his event, the one-hundred meter fly, but quite a few were interested to see him make the accompanying freestyle event. For once, Haru hadn’t protested when Rin said he’d wanted to—Haru was aiming for the eight-hundred meter, anyway, which he successfully qualified for, and went for the two-hundred meter as well.

It was also no surprise that Rin was interviewed afterward, but he still wasn’t used to having a microphone shoved in his own face. The interviewer asked how he felt. (“Good,” he’d replied.) She said that everyone looked forward to seeing him compete, after what happened in Australia. (“Me too. Can we forget about that?”) He relaxed slightly when she laughed at his deadpan humor, but was more relieved when she moved on to the next interviewee.

They barely made the time to qualify for the medley, but they did it. Rin insisted it was his fault they were slow but the others begged him to shut up, that they’d improve their time in the race itself, when it mattered. They searched for Makoto and Gou in the stands between events, though couldn’t spot them. But when they all returned to the locker room, Rin and Haru both had innumerable text messages from them, Gou’s littered with emoticons and Makoto’s with too many exclamation points.

It was too long to wait until morning for the competition to begin. Haru desperately wanted to be in the pool that night, and Rin had to prove that they couldn’t. Coach snuck the team into the bleachers long after the crowd dispersed. Down below, they were already setting up for the next day’s races, vacuuming the pool and stringing up banners. But Yazaki felt a similar longing for the water, itching to do _anything_ other than wait out the hours in his hotel room.

“The shore isn’t too far from here,” Coach suggested. “Think your driver would mind taking you guys over?”

“Want to come?” Fujioka asked, but he declined, claiming he looked forward to a quiet night for a change.

Makoto and Gou were waiting for them outside with congratulations and hugs. Rin formally introduced his sister to their relay teammates, glaring at Yazaki when he stood a little too close to her. Haru elbowed him in the ribs.

The limo, too, was waiting, and the driver had no problem taking a detour to the beach. They shoved and jostled each other as they crammed into the back; Haru sat on the floor between Rin’s legs, and Rin wouldn’t let his sister sit beside anyone but him. She rolled her eyes, but was quickly sidetracked by the limo’s compartments stuffed with snacks and drinks.

“It’s all healthy stuff,” she said, frowning at a protein bar.

“Hey, can I take that?” Yazaki asked. “I’m starving.”

“If you’d like,” the driver called from the front, “we can stop somewhere for dinner.”

Haru leaned his head back to look at Rin upside-down, his hair falling back to reveal his forehead. “Takeout in the limo?”

Rin threw a fist in the air. “Takeout in the limo!”

Haru was pleased that Fujioka, too, had a fondness for mackerel, though Makoto teased that he’d never be able to compete with Haru’s love for it. For Haru, it only meant he wasn’t completely outnumbered when they ordered; the presence of mackerel in the car was something even Rin didn’t complain about. They cracked the windows as the scent of fish and beef filled the car, and they caught even the driver snacking on something one-handed.

Fujioka turned to the driver. “I hope they give you a big tip after this.”

“So do I,” the driver said with a laugh.

It was something to be said for traveling with professional swimmers: they were always prepared for any body of water. Yazaki only had one swimsuit with him, which was still damp from qualifying, but he shimmied into it anyway before running into the ocean. Rin tossed a pair of legskins to Makoto—they were nearly the same size now—and even Gou wore Haru’s spare jammers with a T-shirt as she waded to the water’s edge.

To no one’s surprise Haru was swimming out farther than the others, but Rin was quick to catch up. He came up behind Haru and hooked an arm around his waist, watching as the sun began to set over the horizon.

“Rin.” His voice blended with the ocean waves, smooth over the water, as Rin left a slow kiss on his jaw. “Thank you.”

Rin’s head perked up. “For what?”

Haru skimmed a hand over the water, curling his fingers so the tips dipped beneath the surface. “For being annoying when we were kids.”

“I wasn’t _that_ annoying.”

Haru turned around, still confined within Rin’s embrace. “Definitely annoying.”

“You weren’t any better! Haruka ‘I only swim free’ Nanase.”

“Shut up, Rin.” But he smirked to hold back a laugh.

Later, they all sat on the shore as the last rays of sunlight disappeared, picking at the remnants of their dinner. The driver, too, joined them, stretching his legs in the sand and admitting that their little group of friends wasn’t so bad.

“Makoto,” Rin said, “was Haru annoying as a kid?”

Makoto quickly looked away. “Uh . . .”

“Rin was _definitely_ more annoying,” Haru said.

Yazaki interrupted, leaning forward to see them both down the line. “Now _this_ I’ve got to hear.”

“There’s nothing to hear!” Rin spat, but Gou had already sat up straighter, determined to share embarrassing stories about her brother.

 

By the time they returned to Makoto’s house they were sufficiently exhausted, the combination of the qualifying races and the evening sun wiping them out. Rin fell asleep on top of his blankets before Gou had even crawled into bed.

“Haru-nii?” she whispered, pulling up her blanket, when Haru poked his head into the room.

But he was staring down at Rin, whose sprawl took up the entire floor. It was tempting to curl up beside him and stroke his bare, muscled back, but Haru only waved goodnight to Gou as he closed the door.

Makoto was sitting up in bed with his laptop when Haru closed his bedroom door. “Look, Haru,” he said, turning the computer around.

Haru was still surprised when he saw his face on news articles. It was about all the qualifiers, but the journalist seemed to like him the most. “‘After a disappointing run in Australia,’” Haru read the caption beneath his photo, “‘Nanase shows new promise at Tokyo.’ Disappointing?” He flopped to his futon with a pout.

“You’ll show them tomorrow,” Makoto said, as he shut down the computer, which pacified Haru enough. He clicked off the light as he settled into bed, watching Haru turn on his side and hug his pillow.

The sounds of the city had become commonplace, the white noise that lulled him to sleep. Haru listened to Makoto rustle in his blankets, getting comfortable, and ultimately fall silent. Though Haru was exhausted, there was one image he couldn’t get out of his mind—when they’d visited the beach, he’d noticed the way Makoto had watched Gou at the shore. It was innocent enough, making sure she didn’t wade out too far, but he wondered if it was also because she only wore a T-shirt on top.

“Do you like Kou?” Haru asked.

He wasn’t sure whether Makoto had heard, or if he’d already fallen asleep. But then the mattress shifted slightly as Makoto rolled to his side to look down at Haru. “I’m not sure. But we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

Haru knew that—they’d both said as much before, in the casual way they’d worked Rei into their sight-seeing plans, too. Like they tried to prove there wasn’t something bubbling beneath the surface.

“If you want to date her,” Haru finally said, “tell Rin first.”

“O-Of course!” He noticed how Makoto didn’t deny it. “Do you . . . think he’d mind?”

Haru hid a smile in his pillow. “If he doesn’t approve of _you_ , she’ll never get married.”

“Haru!”

 

* * *

 

Makoto and Gou rode with them in the limo the following morning. Makoto brought the driver something to eat—toast with strawberry jam, easy to eat one-handed—and the driver was so surprised that he almost forgot to close the door behind them after they all got in.

“You’ll make a great wife one day,” Rin said, after the driver finally shut the door.

“Rin,” Haru said, “you’re marrying a _man_.”

“And what a man he is.” Rin smirked, rubbing his face on Haru’s cheek.

Gou huffed in disgust. “Please stop.” Makoto smiled as she turned toward the window.

Haru’s awe was the same as the day before when they pulled up to the stadium. Even Makoto had a wistful look on his face as he stepped from the car, thanking the driver even as his eyes were locked on the building.

“Wish you were swimming with us?” Rin asked, elbowing his ribs.

“I do miss it,” he admitted, and Gou jabbed her brother in the back when she thought Rin might cry.

They weren’t allowing the spectators in yet, but Makoto and Gou were happy to take a walk for a while. “We’ll be sitting all day,” he reminded them. “It’s fine. We’ll see you later!”

It was a shorter competition than the one in Australia—only two days, with the first for the individual events. They knew they’d be exhausted by day’s end, but as they crowded in the locker room they were eager to get into the pool. Coach gathered the Kyoto team for a pep talk before the races, and none of them could sit still. Rin was up first—and though Haru technically wasn’t allowed on the floor before his own race, Coach permitted him to hang out on the sides with him to see the action up close.

“Are you sure?” Haru asked him.

“Hold the clipboard,” he said, shoving it in Haru’s hands. “Look like you’re working for me.”

“Everyone knows I’m a swimmer.” But Coach shushed him when the PA system crackled, announcing the start of the championship races and the one-hundred meter fly.

“What an idiot,” Haru mumbled, hiding a smile when Rin lifted both arms high to wave at the crowd.

He loved watching from the sidelines. It was more difficult to tell who was in front when the race began, but his heart leaped every single time Rin’s head popped up from the water. He _thought_ Rin had turned first—or hoped—and loved even more watching his return, lifting his head, hoping Rin saw him watching. Perhaps he did. Perhaps Rin swam faster, knowing the sooner he got to the end, the sooner Haru would embrace him, congratulating him on however he finished.

But there was no mistaking the fact Rin’s head popped up first at the end.

The crowd roared. Rin paused to catch his breath, peeling off his swim cap and goggles. The moment he got out of the pool he clasped hands with Coach, falling into a one-armed hug. But Haru threw both arms around him, soaking his jacket with the water dripping from Rin’s body.

They hardly heard the announcement over Rin’s victorious laughter. _“And that’s a new personal record for Rin Matsuoka!”_

The cameras only saw their heads lower, whispering to each other. The photographers only caught Rin’s vibrant smile, his arm secure around his boyfriend’s shoulders. But only Coach could hear the promise, the assurance that they would always stand there for each other, for every race, the knowledge that at the end was their motivation to keep driving forward.

 

Rin did the same for him.

He could see the ease of Haru’s approach to the pool, the way he lifted his head to the stands in his own silent greeting. How he turned slightly to catch Rin’s eye before stepping onto the starting block. How he shook out his limbs, his arms fluid before he even dived. And Rin watched intently as Haru dived—it was a nice view, he had to admit, sitting behind him—and clutched the clipboard to his chest as he waited for Haru to break water.

He wasn’t like anyone else. Perhaps it was his personal bias, but Haru looked beautiful—smoothly cutting through the water while his competitors thrashed in comparison. The eight-hundred meter wasn’t an easy swim, but he’d been working on his endurance: The endless laps during practice; the push to run longer in the mornings. And it paid off. Though Haru couldn’t see Rin standing at poolside, he knew he was there. Not only that, but Haru had something to prove—he _could_ do it; Australia had been a fluke; he would go to the Olympics.

They would go together.

The crowd went wild when Haru’s first place was announced.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Coach said, slapping Rin on the back. Rin loved to watch him climb out of the pool, but loved even more the way Haru hurried toward him, like all the times Rin had done the same. He held on tight when they embraced, and Rin had to remind him to turn around and wave, because the crowd was still cheering for him.

 

* * *

 

Following that race, the two-hundred meter was a cinch. Haru barely broke a sweat. Even Rin finished third in the one-hundred meter free, despite most of his training being focused on the butterfly. They sat in the stands to watch the back- and breaststroke events, cheering for their teammates. Fujioka finished third, and Yazaki fifth, but they cheered like they’d both won gold.

“I could do it again,” Rin said, looping his arm through Haru’s. “I can’t sit still.”

Haru leaned against him. He looked to the spectators around them, who grew restless between races like they, too, needed to feel the surge of the water. He squinted against the sunlight, scanning each row for a familiar face . . . “Rin!”

Rin’s gaze followed to where he pointed, and it was a wonder they hadn’t noticed Makoto before—sitting at the end of his row, consulting his program with Gou. But they weren’t the biggest surprise: on Gou’s other side, sitting on the edge of his seat as they announced the two-hundred meter fly, was Rei.

“Ha!” Rin shielded his eyes. “They didn’t tell us he’d be coming!”

“I guess he took a break from studying.”

“I’m flattered,” Rin said with a chuckle.

They knew exactly where to look when they returned to poolside for the ceremony. They went through the same actions—bowing their heads to accept their medals, smiling for the camera, then looking up to the small band of Iwatobi alumni. When they waved, they waved to Makoto, to Gou, to Rei. Haru was certain they’d seen them, for Gou jumped up and down where she stood, her face red from cheering. And he couldn’t be certain, but when Makoto wiped his eyes he didn’t think it was sweat.

They couldn’t wait to meet them outside. Despite the rush of people heading for the exits, it was easier to meet outside than to find them in the stadium. It didn’t take long to spot Makoto, who stood on a low wall so he towered over everyone else even farther. He waved as Rin and Haru pushed through the crowd, and the moment they were within arm’s-reach Gou grabbed them both for hugs.

“Haruka-senpai!” Rei couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, his voice cracking with excitement. “Rin-senpai!” Rin pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“It’s good to see you,” Haru said, his eyes shining as Rei gathered him into the embrace.

“May I see them?” Rei asked, and they both pulled their medals from beneath their jackets.

“There’s still tomorrow’s relay, too,” Gou said, holding up her program, as if they didn’t know.

Haru looked around their tiny group. They went suddenly quiet, and Rei stood up straighter to counterbalance his sudden defeated slump. But Makoto smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe Nagisa will come next time,” he said. Rei nodded enthusiastically, but even as they stood with their national gold medals, and their grand plans for Olympic stardom, their group felt incomplete. Like Nagisa would be running up to them soon, like they should be training for their own relay the following day.

“Let’s get a picture for him!” Gou said, breaking the silence. “Come on, guys, get together.”

They pushed Rin and Haru to the center of the photo, slinging their arms together, adjusting the medals so they were prominently displayed. Gou took countless photos. She wanted the group shot, but also pictures of the future Olympians on their own. And Makoto wanted one with Haru himself, which Haru couldn’t refuse.

“I request one with Rin-senpai, then,” Rei said, adjusting his glasses. “It is essential for those who’ve mastered the butterfly to stick together.”

“I don’t know if I’d consider you a master,” Rin said, laughing as he threw an arm around him.

They went out for dinner, a small affair, and Rei regretted that he couldn’t stay for the relay the following day. Something about being president of some organization or another—none of them could quite figure it out—but the limo driver agreed to drop him off at the train station before going back to Makoto’s.

“This is extravagant,” Rei said, as they piled into the car. Rin tossed him a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

To Haru’s surprise, Rin didn’t say a word when his sister sat beside Makoto. But only Haru noticed Makoto’s nervousness, the way he jiggled his foot and picked the label off his water bottle. Gou was oblivious, staring at the screen on her camera to check the photos. Rei leaned over, intent on viewing each photo, insisting that she email them all to him. Haru smiled as he took Rin’s hand, feeling his slight squeeze in response. In the world of professional athletes, in the back of a limousine provided by their sponsors, there was still room to fortify the ties of friendship and love.

 

* * *

 

It was late when they returned, much later than they’d planned. Though they retired to their respective rooms (Rin had to admit, his sister wasn’t _that_ bad of a roommate), sleep didn’t come easy. After Makoto turned out the light, he shared with Haru all of their plans to get Rei there, though his schedule was difficult to work around. “We weren’t sure if he could make it,” he explained, “and wanted it to be a surprise, anyway.”

“I was surprised,” Haru admitted. “It was really nice to see him.”

Makoto fell asleep first, leaving Haru to curl on his side, still bursting with energy. The dinner itself had been a decent enough meal—Haru had tuna, which he could’ve prepared better himself—but he didn’t care as much for the food as for the company, listening to the bustle around him. Rin and Rei had fallen into a verbal battle over swim theory, though there had been no clear winner. Gou took as many photos as she could, until Makoto had taken the camera so she could be in some shots, too. Haru lost track of how many pictures he’d taken of Rin and Gou together, side by side with their similar smiles.

Now, Haru crept from the room, careful not to wake Makoto as he slipped into the hallway. Rin and Gou’s door was cracked open, and he was unsurprised to hear their faint whispering from within. When he poked his head in, he saw Rin’s futon pushed up to the bed, the two of them leaned toward each other conspiratorially.

“Haru?” Rin’s voice already acquired that half-dozed timbre, low and sultry, which made Haru’s stomach flip. “What is it?”

He sat up as Haru stepped into the room, lowering to the floor to slip beneath his covers. He held Rin tight, closing his eyes, feeling his calm, steady breathing. “I love you,” he whispered.

It was a long moment before Rin’s fingers threaded his hair, his face pressed to Haru’s neck. “Love you, too.”

When Haru stood, rubbing his eyes with the sudden onset of sleepiness, he noticed Gou watching, a hand pressed to her mouth with the distinct expression of a Matsuoka holding back tears. Haru smiled as he looked to the floor, at the shape of Rin’s figure beneath the sheets. “Kou, I . . . love you, too.”

“Haru-nii-san!” She bounded out of bed, over her brother, Haru opening his arms just in time for her to fall into them. “I love you, nii-san!”

“This is too much,” Rin said, flopping back to the floor, but neither Gou nor Haru missed the small smile before he rolled onto his side.

 

* * *

 

Rin was in a mood the next day. Haru welcomed the nuzzling in the limo—Makoto and Gou were nice enough to pretend to ignore it—but even when they got out of the car, Rin wouldn’t stop touching him. He insisted on holding hands as they stepped into the stadium, joining the crowd of swimmers. He stayed close by in the locker room, which was a little awkward as they changed, but Haru didn’t say anything. He couldn’t deny feeling a similar sense of attachment, burning with the need to swim in the relay together. At least when they joined their other teammates, Rin attacked them with hugs as well—but only Haru received the gentle touches on the shoulder, or the wrist, or his fingers. Only Haru understood the depth of his eyes, the pride that shined from within them.

“Let’s go,” Fujioka said, grinning as he stretched his arms behind his back.

Rin didn’t have to remind Haru to greet the crowd when they approached the pool. They both waved, then chatted amongst the team as they waited for the other teams to approach their lanes. It was mindless conversation—more for the sake of the cameras, just so they weren’t standing around doing nothing—but here, Haru reached for Rin, touching his fingers as they discussed the relay. He knew the cameras would notice, but he didn’t care. He only wished they could wear their rings in the water, further proving their mutual dedication even outside the pool.

When the first whistle blew, Fujioka nodded to them before slipping into the water.

Haru looked up. He spotted Makoto and Gou right away, sitting in the same seats. They waved, and he smiled before turning toward the pool. The relay had begun, and Fujioka had a flawless start.

“Look at him go,” Yazaki whispered, hurrying to his spot on the starting block. Haru glanced at the stands, and despite the distance noticed how intently Makoto watched their backstroke swimmer. He lightly touched Rin’s back as Yazaki dived.

“You’re not gonna give me a good luck kiss?” Rin teased.

He would’ve _sworn_ the cameras trained on them both in that moment. “Not a chance.” He nudged Rin toward the starting block, though he was already leaping onto it. Rin snapped the band of his goggles before he set, then leaped into the water the second Yazaki’s fingers grazed the wall.

They had good teammates— _great_ teammates. As Haru mounted the starting block Fujioka clapped him on the shoulder, both of them silently focused on Rin. Yazaki whispered encouragements under his breath, and those same words were rushing through Haru’s mind— _You can do this. Go, Rin_. Rin inclined his head after the turn, seeking him, and Haru’s heart pounded in his chest. _I love this man_ , he thought, watching Rin move, spraying water around him with each kick. _I’m going to marry him_.

Haru dived when Rin slapped the wall, hearing the reverberation of his own name as his fiancé cried out for him.

The water was wild. Rin had swam hard, and Haru could feel it. It boosted his own speed, the waves pushing him toward the end, his own movements melting into the wake of Rin’s stroke. He could almost _smell_ his very presence on the water, the need and drive to be ever closer to him. The crowd flew by in a blur; he was vaguely aware of the neighboring lanes, pushing to pass them.

He couldn’t see Rin up ahead. But he _heard_ him, the crescendo of his voice with each push of his arms. Haru came up with a gasp when he touched the wall, his lungs and his back burning, smiling before he even knew how they’d finished.

“We won!” Yazaki cried, tackling Fujioka as Rin helped Haru from the water.

“First.” Rin smiled crookedly, still holding onto his hand.

Haru nodded as he closed his eyes, falling into a hug.

Coach was on them in a second, silently staring at his clipboard. And then up to the timer. They followed his eyes, staring at the digital display, but didn’t have to consult the clipboard to know—they hadn’t beaten their own personal record, but they knew exactly what they needed. They knew the world records; they knew the minimum time required for Olympics qualifying. And they knew that their first-place finish was well beyond that minimum.

Rin burst into tears, right in front of the cameras, and even Haru flashed a sparkling grin as Yazaki pulled them into a group hug.

 

When they returned to the locker room, Rin wouldn’t stop crying.

Fujioka and Yazaki side-eyed each other, a silent conversation of _What should we do?_ But Haru sat beside Rin on the bench, rubbing his back, letting him sob all over his shoulder.

“He’s fine,” Haru told their teammates, but they seemed unconvinced as they warily turned to change.

“Dad,” Rin whispered, a soft voice only Haru could hear. “Dad, are you watching?”

Haru leaned against him, rubbing slow circles on Rin's back until he calmed slightly. “He’s watching,” Haru replied, to which Rin sobbed again.

The news was instantaneous. It was no surprise that they were both greeted with voicemails from Rin’s mother, who was crying with joy as she left rambling congratulatory messages. It was more surprising that Haru’s mother, too, had contacted them both via text, sending formal congratulations and a pride in seeing them on television.

“So they watched,” Rin said, as Haru sat on a bench in the locker room, still staring at his phone.

“They’re my parents.”

“I know that, babe.” Rin sat beside him to kiss his cheek. “I just . . .” Haru set a hand on Rin's thigh. “It’s cool that they texted me, too. That’s all.”

It was easy to forget about Haru’s parents—they’d never had much presence in their son’s life, aside from the occasional phone call and email. But Haru, too, was pleased that they’d contacted Rin. It was a small gesture—they’d simply sent him a modified version of message they'd left their son—but it was enough. He squeezed Rin’s thigh before getting up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. They held hands on the way out of the stadium, the same as they’d come in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/91670053388) on tumblr.)


	13. Chapter 13

Mere hours after their victory, when they’d returned to Makoto’s house, there wasn’t a sports website anywhere that didn’t mention the prodigies from the small town of Iwatobi. As Makoto cooked dinner—he claimed he was getting better—Gou opened every single article about the championship meet she could find, with Rin and Haru hovering over her shoulders.

“Ooh, I like this one!” she said, reading the title. “‘Matsuoka and Nanase Clear Contenders for Rio.’”

“Why are you always first?” Haru asked, but Rin only smirked as he made Gou open up another article.

“Hey, scroll back up!” Rin said. “Save that picture! You look hot, Haru.”

“Go back to that other page,” Haru said. “It had a really good one of Rin.”

Gou had to leave right after dinner, having class the next morning, and Haru offered to walk her to the train station. Rin protested at first but Haru was weirdly insistent, claiming he was restless and needed the walk. Rin stared at the front door after it closed behind them, perplexed, and eventually ventured into the kitchen to help Makoto clean up.

“You don’t have to do that,” Makoto said, as Rin gathered the dirty plates.

“Yeah I do.” He whipped away from Makoto’s outstretched hands to dump the fish bones into the trash bin.

Makoto sighed. “Rin . . .”

“What? They’re just plates. Haru makes me clean ’em all the time.”

He chuckled softly. “No, it’s not that.”

When Rin faced him again, he was surprised how obviously Makoto avoided his eyes. He stared down at the sink instead, wiping down a platter that was already clean, dunking it again into the sudsy water. “Hey, Makoto. What’s up?”

His Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed hard, finally resting the clean platter on the drying rack. “Do you think . . . I mean, would you mind . . .” He twisted the dishtowel in his hands, taut against his knuckles. “Could I go out with Gou sometime?”

Rin’s eyes went wide. Inwardly, he cursed Haru— _I should’ve known this!_ —but maybe Haru _had_ known, and just didn’t tell him, and in those few seconds it took to conjure up a response there were a thousand thoughts running through his head. None of which, he was surprised to note, included killing this man where he stood. “You like my sister?”

Makoto quickly turned to reach for another plate, but Rin grabbed his wrist. Makoto froze, torn between jerking away and relenting, his hand twitching in Rin’s grip.

“I mean, it’s okay if you do.”

When Makoto lifted his face again, the light in his eyes was the only proof he needed. They were filled with such hope that Rin wondered how long Makoto had been fretting over this.

Rin went on. “Well, you know, if she wants to. But . . . hell, why wouldn’t she?”

A blush burst high on his cheeks. “Rin!”

He chuckled, grabbing a towel from the countertop to dry as Makoto washed the dishes. “Hey, Makoto . . . has she gone out with anyone else? Like, in high school or anything?”

“Hmm.” He rinsed a plate and set it in Rin’s waiting hand. “I don’t think so. But wouldn’t you know that?”

He shrugged. “The academy was pretty isolated.”

Makoto slowly scrubbed down another plate, mouth twisted in concentration. “You _are_ her big brother, and she looks up to you. I think she’d tell you.”

He kneed Makoto in the shin. “Yeah, if she knows what’s good for her.”

 

When Haru returned to the house they didn’t stay up late, exhausted after the days of non-stop swimming. But before they slept they crowded on Makoto’s floor, checking the news pages again on their laptops, and Rin updated their blog to boast of their victories. As Rin was consumed with typing Makoto smiled at Haru, and it was all Haru needed to confirm his walk to the train station hadn’t been a total waste.

Rin and Haru shared Shintaro’s room that night, opting to cuddle on the floor rather than squeeze together on a stranger’s bed. They linked their legs beneath the covers, hungry for each other’s kisses after the days of sleeping apart.

“So, Haru,” Rin whispered, as he peppered tiny kisses on Haru’s lips. “You knew Makoto liked my sister?”

“No.” He adamantly shook his head, which made Rin miss his lips, kissing his cheeks instead. Haru tried—and failed—to ignore Rin’s unconvinced grunt. “Fine. Yes.”

Rin gently pushed Haru onto his back to crawl on top of him, then kissed his lips. Fuller now, longer. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets,” he said.

“Liar.” Rin kissed him again. “I have a lot of secrets.”

“Oh?” Rin crept a hand up his T-shirt. “Like your water porn and your sensitive nipples?”

“That doesn’t count,” Haru said, squirming as Rin’s hand slid higher. “You know that because you’re sleeping with me.” Rin slid down his body as he hiked Haru’s shirt up, flicking his tongue between his pecs. Haru grunted and shoved him away; Rin laughed as he crashed into the bedframe. “Wait until we get home! Jeez.”

 

But “home” was still some days off, with Rin’s scheduled photoshoot for the speedboat manufacturer. They shot at the ocean, much to Haru’s delight; as long as he stayed out of sight, he was permitted to swim while Rin posed on the boat. But he didn’t swim much—he wanted to watch. Haru hadn’t spent much time on boats in his life, as he preferred the water itself, but he watched the shoot from a distance, deciding he liked Rin playing the part of captain. It was a small speedboat but, as the photographer had explained, it would look bigger on camera. And there was Rin at the bow, wearing only a pair of jammers and too much stage makeup, his hand on the wheel or staring out at the water or whatever else the director wanted him to do.

Haru dipped down into the water, only his eyes visible as he watched. Rin looked _really good_ on that boat.

 _Maybe we’ll get a boat_ , Haru thought idly, as he listened to click of the cameras on the wind.

 

* * *

 

They caught an early train later that week and Haru slept most of the ride, leaned against Rin’s shoulder. Rin alternated between watching the country pass out the window and watching Haru sleep, occasionally kissing the top of his head. Haru automatically pressed closer to him each time, same as he did sleeping in bed.

He felt a little strange after his second modeling stint. Even though Haru said it was okay, it was the first thing he’d done alone—though he figured he probably cared more about that than Haru did. It would be good to get his name out there as a swimmer, he knew, but not every athlete was asked to do advertisements. And it was different than the z-Mobile shoot, because they were fully dressed in that one. _Maybe all that gym time was good for something besides swimming_ , he thought idly. He looked down at Haru, who was now hugging his arm as he dozed. _Doesn’t matter_ , he thought, kissing him again, feeling Haru shift against him. _As long as everyone knows we’re still in this together_.

“Haru baby,” Rin whispered, as they pulled into the stop before Kyoto. “Get up. We’re almost home.”

Rin loved that word on his lips— _home_. He’d had grand dreams of their future home together, confirming Haru’s house in Iwatobi would be _theirs_ , but wasn’t this their first place together? It _felt_ like home, when they approached the building, returning to the comforts of the apartment. When Rin dug through his bag for his key, Haru sleepily rubbed his eyes beside him. When they opened the door, they were greeted by the familiar fragrance of their space: the permanent tinge of chlorine, a little bit of mackerel, and a blend of water and musk.

The door hadn’t completely slammed shut before they helped each other out of their travel-wrinkled clothes, their shirts and trousers piled to the floor. But they paused before the wall of medals, holding around each other’s bare waists, then leaped for their bags to unearth their newest victories.

Haru hammered nails to the wall as Rin waited with their medals draped over both arms, standing close by to watch over his shoulder.

“Don’t stand so close,” he muttered, bumping Rin back with his butt. “I’m going to hit you.”

“Should I make a stupid joke about nailing me?”

Haru groaned. “No.”

Instead, Rin lightly snapping the elastic of Haru’s trunks as they stood back to admire his handiwork. The nails were slightly off-center, but they were quickly running out of space and he’d had to improvise.

“This wall isn’t big enough,” Haru said.

Rin slid one of Haru’s medals down his arm, then held it up in both hands to admire its shine in the light. He hummed the opening to the Olympics theme as he carefully slung it across two nails. “The landlord is going to _love_ us when this comes down.”

Haru smirked, taking one step back for Rin to hang them all up, but close enough so he could trace the lines on his back with his fingertips. Satisfied, Rin crossed his arms.

“Can we go to bed now?” Haru asked.

“I _am_ beat,” Rin said, stretching his arms behind his back with an exaggerated yawn. As Haru moved for the bedroom, Rin's gaze fell to the curve of his trunks, the lightweight fabric shifting as Haru feigned exhaustion in his lazy steps. But the moment he disappeared around the doorframe, Rin caught the quick motion of that small piece of fabric disappearing as he pulled them down.

“Oi, Haru! Wait for me!”

Rin cracked a window before falling into bed, the sheets crisp and clean and now filled with the summer air. Haru wasted no time in removing Rin’s underwear as well as they lay on top of the sheets, each dip and groove of their bodies illuminated in the afternoon sun.

“No training today, right?” Haru asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Mmm hmm.” Rin wrapped a leg around Haru’s thigh, pulling him closer. “What do you have in mind?”

Haru climbed over him, resting on his chest, fitting his body between Rin’s spread legs. “When we’re done here”—he waited for Rin’s mischievous smirk—“let’s go out.”

“Miracle of miracles!” Rin threw his arms in the air, nearly smacking Haru in the head. “Haruka Nanase wants to go out!” He wrapped his arms tight around him. “You know I’ll always go out with you, babe.”

“It closes at seven o’clock.”

Rin cocked an eyebrow. “Eh?”

“The aquarium.”

He flopped his head back to the pillow.

“I won’t jump in the dolphin tank.”

Rin threaded his fingers through Haru’s hair, pushing it from his forehead to better see the shine of his eyes. “Do I need to put you on a leash?”

His blue eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

Haru squirmed when Rin tickled his hip but quickly pulled him close again, intent only on kissing his lips, on feeling their skin mold together. And he knew Haru would want as much time at the aquarium as possible, so he wasted no time in teasing that body. Haru responded instantly—already his cheeks were flushed, with the slight pant of his chest as he grinded against him.

Haru rolled to his back, pulling Rin on top, allowing him to feel every inch his chest before dipping a hand between his legs. Haru lifted his hips, already gripping to Rin’s back as he forced his body to relax.

“Don’t rush it,” Rin murmured, breath hot on Haru’s skin.

But Rin was also needy, with the days they hadn’t slept beside each other piling up until he thought he’d burst. With every night he slept on the floor at Makoto’s house, knowing Haru was right across the hall. With every morning he woke, searching for him, the disappointment that Haru wasn’t _right there_.

“I missed you,” Haru breathed, as Rin began to enter him, as if he knew each and every thought on Rin’s mind. Rin didn’t doubt that he did.

He dragged kisses across Haru’s skin, calming him, waiting for the soft moan that signaled it was safe to move. And he did, slowly, pausing when Haru’s fists would clench, but he’d always wait for his okay, for his comfort, for the constant reassurance that Haru enjoyed himself. Rin kissed those pink lips as they parted, kissed the beading sweat from his forehead. They didn’t make love in broad daylight enough; Rin loved to watch him move, to watch the bulge of Haru’s biceps as he held on tight, the slight smile of disbelief, still, that they were sleeping together at all.

The shower following their love-making was record speed—Haru didn’t even want to take a bath—because the promise of the aquarium hung in the air. Haru’s skin was still damp when he put on his clothes. Rin insisted they eat something beforehand, at least, though there was little else but white rice and crackers in the pantry.

“We’ll get something on the way to the train,” Haru said, halfway out the door. Rin hadn’t even finished dressing, quickly tying his sneakers and grabbing a baseball cap before rushing after him.

The food cart by the subway was mediocre at best, most of it fried, but it was quick and portable. Rin almost regretted that he _didn’t_ have a leash, with Haru’s sudden burst of enthusiasm. Rin wasn’t even finished paying the vendor before Haru was at the subway’s entrance.

“Sex and water,” Rin muttered, as he jogged up alongside him. “Doesn’t take much, does it?”

For all his teasing, Rin couldn’t deny an attraction to the aquarium himself. He wondered how they hadn’t been there yet—the building loomed over them as they approached, Haru staring dumbfounded through the glass-fronted doors. Rin took his wrist to guide him inside.

“I haven’t been to an aquarium in years,” Rin said, after they’d paid admission. Haru was already standing before one wall-sized tank, hands pressed to the glass to seek out each individual fish listed on the plaque. The place was packed with children and parents, being summer break, but Haru’s expression matched those of the children around them—wide-eyed, curious, and nearly giddy with excitement.

“Let’s get to the dolphin show,” Rin said, which was the only thing that would pull Haru away from the massive tank.

Despite Haru’s promise not to jump in, Rin still refused to sit in the front row. But Haru was in good spirits and didn’t pout over it. He linked an arm through Rin’s as the show started, flashing a brilliant smile each time a dolphin leaped from the water. Haru's smiles were more entertaining to Rin than the show—his excitement was adorably childlike, holding Rin’s arm tighter when the animals appeared. Despite not sitting in the front they were still close enough to get splashed; Haru was the only one in their section who didn’t wipe the water from his face.

Afterward, they visited the penguins (“We have to bring Nagisa,” Haru noted), and the seals and salamanders, and Rin even permitted Haru to play in the interactive zone. He kept an arm around Haru’s waist as they leaned over the tank, feeling the rough surfaces of the small sharks and the starfish. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d stayed until closing.

“The gift shop is still open,” Rin said, and they followed the surge of pedestrian traffic for the exit.

The shop was filled with stuffed aquatic animals and toys that children didn’t know they needed until they saw them. Its walls were lined with posters, and giant plastic sea creatures were suspended from the ceiling. The moment they walked through the doors Haru paused, tugging on Rin’s jacket as he pointed to a poster by the door.

“I want that,” he said, deadpan.

When Rin turned the blush instantly sprung to his cheeks, following Haru’s steady gaze to the advertisement adorning the wall—one of a particular professional swimmer advertising a particular speedboat manufacturer.

“So embarrassing,” Rin muttered, quickly turning away from the poster. He lowered the brim of his hat over his eyes.

None of the other patrons had noticed, he thought, though most were preoccupied with the art of spending. Rin beelined for a stuffed animal display, something he could sufficiently hide behind and block his view of the half-naked advertisement.

“Oi, Haru,” he said, picking through the plush toys. “What happened to that dolphin? The one in your room back home?”

“It’s at home,” Haru replied. “Why?”

“He needs a friend.” Rin picked up the first plush in reach, cuddling the penguin to his chest. “Look how cute he is.”

“Hmm.” Haru circled the display, stroking his chin as he studied it carefully, then reached for a stuffed shark. “I like this one.”

Rin checked the price tag on its tail. “Three thousand yen for a stuffed animal?!” But Haru was already distracted, stroking the soft fur and poking its tiny, pointed teeth. “Come on, then,” Rin said with a chuckle, touching Haru’s hip.

They spent far too long in the shop. Haru also went home with a poster of ocean life, and Rin couldn’t resist a book on undersea predators. The cashier eyed him curiously as he paid for their souvenirs, but he kept his head low over his wallet as he shoved his change back in. Haru noticed how she glanced at the advertisement by the door as the next customer approached the register.

Haru took control when they returned home, drawing a bath only half-full with the intent for Rin to join him. It was, perhaps, a withdrawal; despite the championship meet he still needed the water, aroused with the aquarium he’d been banned from jumping into. And he needed Rin, too, in the water, that intentional overstimulation, so desperate to feel everything he loved at once.

They settled into the tub slowly, ensuring no water was wasted over its edges. Rin wiggled back against his chest and Haru stroked his bare skin, cupping water to pour over his shoulders like an endless fountain.

“I love you, Haru.” He arched his neck back with another trickle of water, feeling it flow down his chest. “I love you so much.”

The sun had long since set by the time they went to bed, drying each other off and not bothering with pajamas. Rin’s heart was racing and, when he set a hand over Haru’s chest, felt a similar rapid beat.

“Come here,” Haru whispered, wiggling a hand between Rin and the mattress so he could encircle his body. Rin nuzzled to his neck, twining a leg through his, feeling Haru’s every groove and every breath. He closed his eyes as Haru kissed the top of his head, breathing in his clean, watery scent. Both Haru’s hands were threaded through his hair, his lips rested on his crown—

Rin grunted when Haru’s phone jingled.

“Who’s messaging you _now_?” He pressed his face to Haru’s chest.

“You get it,” he mumbled into Rin’s hair.

Reluctantly, Rin moved, lounging across him unnecessarily. He deliberately rubbed his chest against Haru’s in reaching for the bedside table. Haru, half-dozed, combed his fingers through the red hair spread across his clavicle.

Rin squinted at the phone, and then burst out laughing. “Makoto wants to know how to tell me about his date.”

“Huh?” Haru blindly groped for the phone, but Rin held it away from his grasp as he sat up. “‘Going out with Gou Friday!’” he read, hiking his voice up an octave. “I should tell Rin?’ Wow, he uses a lot of question marks.”

“Give me that,” Haru said, but already Rin had dialed his number and put it on speakerphone. “Rin! You’re going to embarrass him.”

Makoto answered right away. “Haru!”

“Makoto-nii,” Rin teased, and even Haru suppressed a laugh when Makoto yelped.

“R-Rin,” he said, laughing nervously. “I should’ve known you check Haru’s phone.”

“I’m getting better,” Haru protested.

“Oh, hey, Haru!”

“Makoto, listen.” Rin sat back against the headboard. Despite Haru’s pouting he still curled up next to him, mindlessly rubbing Rin’s bare chest. “I said it was okay, right? And I trust you.”

Haru wasn’t going to mention how much that last part sounded like a threat.

“I guess I’m a little nervous,” Makoto admitted.

“Just be like Haru,” Rin said. He smirked as Haru looked up suspiciously. “Act like an awkward idiot and pretend you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s irresistible.”

Haru grabbed the phone. “Don’t be like Rin,” he said. “He’ll kill you for having sex with her in the first three weeks.”

“ _You_ wanted to first!” Rin shouted.

Makoto sighed. “I don’t need to know this, guys.”

By the time they hung up, Makoto hadn’t been pacified at all. A few rounds of “just be yourself” and “you have nothing to worry about” calmed him a little, though Rin was scowling when he slid the phone back onto the bedside table.

 _“What?”_ Haru poked his ribs.

Rin settled back and crossed his arms. “You know _what_.”

“Rin . . .” Haru stroked his cheek until Rin closed his eyes, easing into his touch. “She could do a lot worse than Makoto.”

He took Haru’s hand to kiss his fingers. “I know that.”

“And _you’ve_ been having sex for three years.”

He jerked away with a _hmph_ , hugging his pillow as he turned on his side. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”

 

* * *

 

In a matter of months, they’d return to Tokyo for Olympics qualifying.

With each day that passed, Rin freaked out just a little bit more. Rarely did he let Haru out of his sight—when they were at practice, Rin needed to swim beside him; at home, they shared the same breathing room. Once, Haru visited Iwatobi alone for the weekend, and he was surprised that Rin didn’t complain.

“I guess I’m being annoying,” he said with a shrug, handing Haru his overnight bag.

But even Iwatobi was no break from the fame—he’d nearly forgotten about their z-Mobile advertisement, a larger-than-life–sized image of his own face as he stepped off the train. It felt like so long since they’d sat in that photo studio, pretending to call each other. And it hardly resembled them after the photos had been touched up, with their hypersmooth, pore-free skin.

He stared at Rin’s side of the ad a long time, studying the face he’d seen so often up-close. In the back of his mind, he knew the touch-ups were meant to be an improvement. But he looked weird. No shadow beneath his chin, where Haru had rested his lips so many times; no flush of his cheeks from permanent chlorine exposure. Haru squinted, rubbing a faint pink splotch from Rin’s perfect jawline.

 _Lipstick_. He frowned, wiping his thumb on his jeans.

He stopped by Komi’s Fish Market before going home; Komi was proud to show off the newspaper article he’d framed and hung in the back of the booth.

“All of Iwatobi is rooting for you!” he said. Haru bought more mackerel than necessary for his short trip home.

Everywhere he went, people recognized him—at the station, at the grocer, on his walk home. He’d made fun of Rin for carrying around glossies of himself, but wished he had something with him now. Sometimes people would have something for him to sign, even if it was just the back of an old receipt, but there were times they had nothing at all. Most carried a phone, though, so he took a lot of photos.

He returned to Kyoto several days prior to schedule.

“The fame of a small-town hero get to you?” Rin asked, greeting him at the door with a kiss.

“You’re coming with me next time.” He hugged Rin for a long time before Rin reminded him there was meat searing on the stovetop.

As they ate dinner they went through their backlog of mail, which included a couple overdue bills (Rin would take care of those the following day) and a letter for each of them from Haru’s parents.

“My parents?” Haru said, leaning across the table to read the labels upside-down. They ripped open their envelopes simultaneously, chopsticks in one hand and a one-page handwritten letter in the other.

Haru’s was typical enough—They were proud of his accomplishments, having watched his swim meets on television. Dad got a promotion at work; Mom had started volunteering at the local swim club. The latter was more surprising, as she hadn’t even helped out when _he_ was part of a club as a kid. _It’s really exciting_ , she’d written. _Maybe they need volunteers at the Olympics!_

“Haru . . .” Rin carefully set his letter down, hesitating before he pushed it across the table. Even then he still held the corner, and Haru had to gently wiggle it out from beneath the pressure. He passed his own letter across the table for Rin to read as he took up his chopsticks again.

> _Rin,_
> 
> _You probably know that we’re not the best at communication, but we suspect you may be familiar with that Nanase family trait. But that doesn’t excuse our never having a proper conversation with you._
> 
> _We are proud of Haruka and his accomplishments, as we pray he is aware of. But we are equally proud of you. We watch your swim meets when possible on television, and you have a striking presence. We’ve not yet had many opportunities to witness you and Haruka together, but your commitment is obvious even in the pool. The cameras are fond of your relationship, as you must be aware._
> 
> _Thank you for all you have done for our son. Haruka was raised in a traditional home, thus you are aware of our views on certain matters. We will not deny that our acceptance has been a slow process. But we can confidently say we anticipate your forthcoming marriage, and look forward to formally calling you a son._

Haru blinked at his parents’ names at the bottom of the letter. He read it over again— _a striking presence. Your commitment is obvious._

“They . . . _anticipate_ our marriage?” Haru set the letter down. “Is this really my parents?”

Rin peered at him over Haru’s letter. “You tell me.”

He studied the familiar, handwritten signatures. He swallowed hard, forgetting to chew a mouthful of rice, and grabbed for his glass of water. Rin gently pressed it into his hand, watching as he drank it down.

Rin filed away the mail, but posted the letters from Haru’s parents on the refrigerator. When they finished dinner they caught up on emails, sitting across from each other at the table, poking each other with their feet beneath the table. Occasionally one or the other would lean over the table—Rin more often than Haru—to kiss the other, then sit back with a smile. Though their lives were a bustle of practices and sponsorship conference calls and unceasing pep talks from their coach, they loved quiet these moments away from the spotlight as well.

“Rin.”

Rin peered up, catching the surprise on Haru’s face as he rapidly clicked his trackpad, apparently scrolling through a page. “What’s up?”

Haru turned the computer around to display the article: _Former Olympic Swimming Champion Ian Thorpe Reveals he's Gay_. Rin pulled Haru’s computer closer, scrolling through the article himself. He paused at the end, not yet looking up. He breathed in deep.

“That’s a long time to hide,” Haru said.

Rin nodded, still staring at the article.

“I . . .” Haru looked away. “I’m glad we didn’t.”

When Rin returned the laptop, Haru grasped his hand until it stopped shaking. “Good,” Rin finally said, his voice cracking. “Good for him.” He didn’t look up from his email, but Haru could read the pride and relief on his lowered face. Rin stretched a leg beneath the table to rest it in Haru’s lap. “And in other news.”

Haru peered up again. “Hmm?”

Rin turned the computer around, displaying a picture of Makoto and Gou on-screen. There was seldom a moment that one or the other of them didn’t look happy under normal circumstances, but here there was no doubt—Makoto took the photo himself, standing behind Gou with one arm around her waist, the other extended out to take the shot. And Gou was beaming, leaning back against him, her hair unbound and wind-swept.

Haru smiled. “Good.”

Rin turned the computer back to him, staring at the photo, trying to hide the smile on his own face. “I guess so.”

Haru reached for Rin’s hand again, lacing their fingers together, and eventually Rin lifted his hand to kiss it.

 

* * *

 

Coach had a stack of registration forms ready. There weren’t many swimmers at the club who were eligible for the Olympic Trials, but those who were silently crowded around the bench. Haru held the application in both hands, staring down at the single sheet of paper.

“It’s not much,” he said, as Rin stared over his shoulder, not yet having touched the form himself.

Even when they got home the application sat on the table, waiting for their information: Name. Date of birth. Personal records. Information they knew off the top of their heads, requiring little else but their handwritten consent.

“Haru.” It was that firm declaration of his name, Rin’s preface into something he deemed important, important enough for Haru to look up and listen. He held his pen in a shaky hand. “I want to swim free.”

Rin’s face was so serious, with his downturned mouth, the knit of his eyebrows. It continued to amaze Haru how easily he could read his expressions, sensing the emotions he tried so hard to conceal. He emitted a nervous energy, like a feline poised and ready to counterattack. “Then swim free.”

“I mean with you.”

Haru shook his head. “We’re not swimming in the same events.”

But Rin’s resolve didn’t waver. Even his hands stopped shaking, the pen in his grip digging into his palm.

“Rin?”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it,” he admitted. “I haven’t trained as much for freestyle. But what if we _did_? What if _we_ were the two swimming free for Japan?” His voice cracked. “Haru.”

Haru stared at his application. He didn’t have to declare his events, not yet. It was merely a form, an admission of dedication. He stared at Rin’s ring-adorned hand, feeling for the metal on his own finger. _Swimming free for Japan_. “I’m going for all of them,” he eventually replied. “I’ll swim every free event I can.”

Rin flinched, fumbling his pen. “Haru, please . . .”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze scanning Haru’s face, as if seeking further confirmation of a dedication he already knew to be there. Then, Haru smiled. “Okay.”

Rin's eyes flashed, such relief in something so simple, the mutual promise they’d always made. Rin instantly grabbed for him, cupping the back of his neck as they kissed, long and slow. When he pulled away, Rin took up his pen again and wrote his name on top of the form.

Haru watched. He knew all Rin’s essential information, too; he could have completed his application himself. Rin’s lips were pursed, his chin quivering, and Haru wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before it could fall to the paper.

“Haru.” His voice shook again as he set the pen down, wiping his cheek on Haru’s arm.

“I know.” He slung his legs across Rin’s lap as he finally filled out his own form, with Rin choking back a laugh of disbelief as he signed his name.

“Ready?” Rin asked, propping his chin on Haru’s shoulder.

Haru breathed in deep. He closed his eyes, feeling Rin’s arms around his middle, leaning against his warmth. He reached for Rin’s hand, touching his promise ring, and then nodded. “We’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now is when _I_ start to get emotional over my own fic. These precious boys.
> 
> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/93027213523) on tumblr.)


	14. Chapter 14

On the train to Tokyo, not a word passed between them. Rin and Haru both upheld indifferent expressions, a casual look that betrayed the anxiety within. They traveled with Fujioka and Yazaki, who sat in the seats in front of them and mostly slept during the ride. But as the train slid closer to their destination Rin and Haru would share a gentle smile, as if to prove they weren’t nervous. They held hands, not for moral support, but because it was what they always did. They both convinced themselves the other needed it more.

Upon arrival they checked into the hotel, like any other meet. They all went out for dinner, pushing the food around their plates more than actually eating it. Haru wished Makoto could have joined them, but he had an exam that night he couldn’t get out of. _We’ll all be watching you on TV!_ he’d said via text. _I wish I could be there!_

After their unfinished meals they bid their teammates goodnight, and they split ways in the hotel lobby. Rin and Haru were silent in their walk to their hotel room; Haru blankly stared down the hall as Rin fumbled with the keycard. The door quietly clicked closed behind them and they stood in the darkness of the room several moments before Haru flipped on the light. Their suitcases were still packed up tight on the floor, but they ignored them for the sake of each other, falling together and clinging to the other's shirt. Haru pressed his cheek to Rin's chest, feeling a small comfort in his pounding heart as Rin stroked his back.

“Are you okay?” Haru asked.

Rin kissed the top of his head. “I’m okay.”

When Haru later emerged from the shower, Rin was nowhere to be found. He wandered the room while brushing his teeth, searching for his phone—maybe Rin had texted him—but instead found a scribbled note on the pad of hotel stationery by the bed.

> _At the fitness center xxx_

Rather than change into his pajamas, Haru threw on a track suit and ventured out to find the fitness center.

It was located on their floor, if the gold-plated hallway signs were to be trusted, and he wandered the hallway until he spotted the glass-fronted fitness center. And there was Rin, walking on a treadmill, headphones on. There were a couple other guests in the room as well, one occupying a spinner and the other on the room's only weight machine. Rin smiled when Haru opened the door, but didn’t break stride.

The low thump of a bass line was audible as Rin lowered his headphones. “I couldn’t sit still.”

Though Haru had just bathed, and still smelled of the hotel’s complimentary body wash, he stepped onto a treadmill beside Rin. He eased into a slow walk, staring at the television mounted on the wall without paying much attention to what it was showing. Rin smiled as he put his headphones back on, muting the bass to the rest of the room.

Haru felt good, moving on that treadmill, using his muscles in ways he didn’t exert them in the water. He never fully got used to moving on dry land—the water was still most natural—but there was something to be said about his feet on the track, to the swing of his arms. When Rin stopped his treadmill, fiddling with his iPod to turn off the music, Haru slowed down as well.

“You can stay if you want,” Rin said, his headphones draped around his neck.

“I already showered,” Haru replied. “I don’t want to get sweaty again.”

When they returned to the room, Rin updated the blog before he showered. Haru changed into his sleepwear and sat beside him on the bed, resting against his shoulder. _Qualifying for the Olympics starts tomorrow_ , Rin wrote. He paused, fingers poised over the keys. Haru snuggled closer, even though Rin smelled of sweat. _I’m really nervous_ , he went on, pausing to see if Haru reacted, but he didn’t. It was his silent agreement. _But it means so much just to be here. I’m really happy Haru is with me. The only thing that could make this even better would be if Dad were here, too._

Haru waited until Rin published the post. Then he took the computer off his lap, setting it on the nightstand as he straddled his lap. Haru traced his cheekbones, feeling the tense muscles of his jaw. Rin wrapped his arms around Haru’s hips, gently stroking his backside, inclining his head for Haru to kiss his lips.

Rin tasted of chlorine and salt but Haru drank him in, cupping his face and pushing himself closer. He threaded his fingers through Rin’s hair, still sticky with sweat.

“Let me shower,” Rin mumbled, wiggling out from beneath him. But he took Haru’s hand as he headed for the bathroom.

Haru wouldn’t say no to another shower. It wasn’t until they’d shed their clothes and stepped beneath the water that Rin began to tremble. His nerves consumed his whole body, holding carefully to Haru to steady himself. He was better when they moved to the bath, the water soothing him, but Haru sat behind him and peppered Rin’s shoulders with kisses to calm him.

Rin turned around in the tub, careful not to splash too much water over the edge. “Haru.”

The name was low in his throat, his hands rested on Haru’s spread knees, fingertips lightly grazing his skin. “What is it, Rin?”

Rin leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “Whatever happens . . . I’m happy you’re here with me.”

Haru held both his hands, fixing them to his knees. “We’ll make it.”

Rin nodded. “Even if we don’t, it was worth it.”

Haru inched closer, wrapping his legs around Rin. He trailed his hands up his arms, then down his back, resting around his hips. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Rin blinked at him. “Eh?”

“When I said I’d marry you.” Haru pulled him closer. “I’m with you.”

Rin kissed him again, feeling up and down his thighs. Haru let out a sigh when Rin’s hands wandered around his back, tracing his spine.

The longer they remained in the tub, and the longer they kissed, the longer they could ignore their rising anxiety, the fear of the unknown at the edge of their periphery. Because despite what happened that week, their lives would change—they’d either prepare for Rio, packing their bags and toting them across the world, or they’d return home, dejected but determined to train harder.

Haru felt the difference in Rin’s kiss, in his eagerness; the desire to _know_ , but also to put off the prospect of his biggest fear. Haru touched the corners of Rin’s eyes but there were no tears, only his smooth, unlined skin as Rin held him tighter.

Against all expectations Haru got out of the tub first, though Rin wouldn’t tease if it meant he could watch him towel off. Haru stood dripping wet on the bathmat, bowing his head slightly to rub his hair dry with a towel. Rin lazily stretched an arm over the tub’s edge, his fingertips grazing Haru’s damp leg. He stretched his arm up farther, reaching only to the base of his hip.

“C’mere,” Rin said, and Haru stepped closer without a word, drying his skin as Rin kissed his thigh.

“Rin.”

He nuzzled Haru’s leg, his body hair like silk against his cheek. He snaked an arm around, fingers high on the inside of his thigh . . .

“I want you to shave me.”

Rin froze. “Huh?” He sat back in the water. Haru had that stony-faced determination, the face that meant he’d refuse to relent. “ _Now_? Your first time shaving really shouldn’t be before a big—”

“Help me.”

“I— Let me dry off first!”

Rin refused to touch the electric razor until every last trace of water had been wiped clean off his body. He even took the hairdryer to Haru’s skin, grumbling the entire time how he shouldn’t have bathed right beforehand.

“It’s easier that way with my razor,” Haru said.

“I’m not shaving you with a straight razor!” He fluffed Haru’s hair as he ran the hairdryer over it.

It wasn’t just his back, which was the only part Rin needed help with himself before major events—Haru’s entire body had a fine layer of black hair, having never shaved anything below the neck. He closed his eyes when Rin stood behind him, listening for the soft whirr of the razor. “It’ll feel weird,” Rin said, setting the blade against Haru’s back.

Haru squirmed at first—it always tickled a little going down the spine—but then stood still, peering down at the hair coating the bathroom floor at his feet.

“Arms too?” Rin asked, pausing at his shoulder.

Haru nodded. “Everything.”

When his back was smooth Rin instructed Haru to sit on the lowered toilet seat, crouching between his legs to get his chest and stomach. Haru was fixated on a water stain at the ceiling, but once Rin had moved down to his legs he rubbed his smooth chest, staring at the goose bumps lining his arms.

“I’m cold,” he said.

“Shut up or I’ll shave your head, too.”

Haru inclined his head. “Get here,” he said, motion to his chin.

“You can shave your own face!”

But he did it anyway, even though Haru had little growing on his face. When he clicked the razor off, the bathroom was eerily silent. “Looks pretty good,” Rin said, running his hands down Haru’s now-smooth chest. He pretended to be examining for missed spots, though there wasn't a trace of hair left on him.

“Your turn?” Haru asked, picking up the razor.

Rin looked around at the tiny black fibers surrounding their feet. “You gonna clean this up?” But he turned anyway to expose his back.

 

* * *

 

Once, there was a time Haru wouldn’t hold hands in public. There was a time he’d scowl when Rin slung an arm across his shoulders—even after they’d started dating—despising couples who publicly displayed their love, despising even more that he’d unwillingly become one of them.

But as they stepped though the sliding glass doors of the Tokyo stadium, releasing Rin’s hand was not an option.

There were thousands of would-be Olympic swimmers crowding the building. _Thousands_. They recognized many of them from national meets, and some from their own club in Kyoto. But their own relay team remained isolated, refusing to admit their constant fidgeting was nerves. Fujioka was more silent than usual; Yazaki wouldn’t stop talking. Haru could only grip Rin’s hand as he watched the surge of swimmers pass them by.

The stadium was crawling with the press, and they were stopped for an interview before they’d even reached the pool. Rin did most of the talking—“We’re very excited,” “This has been my life’s dream”—and Haru remained a silent entity beside him, sometimes looking at the camera. Mostly he was distracted by the distant sound of water, the overwhelming scent of the pool.

“Haruka Nanase,” the reporter said, snapping him back to attention. “And how do you feel?”

He looked to Rin first, with that brilliant, toothy grin, and didn’t realize they still held hands until Rin squeezed his. Standing in front of the camera, all that time, a memorialized public display of affection before the flashing cameras. “I’m ready,” he simply replied.

True to his word, Haru was registered for all the freestyle trials. Rin had a similar program for butterfly, with his one addition—the one-hundred meter free.

“We’re not even in the same heat,” Haru said, as he read over the schedule.

Rin propped his chin on Haru’s shoulder. “And _you_ didn’t want to swim the same events.”

Haru silently shoved the schedule into his bag.

“Haru.” Rin glanced around the packed locker room. He jerked his head toward the exit and Haru obediently followed into the hallway, maneuvering around the crowds to find somewhere—anywhere—they could be alone. Rin smirked as they approached a stairwell, peeking beneath it to ensure it was unoccupied before grabbing Haru’s sleeve.

“What are you doing?” Haru whispered, as Rin tugged him beneath the stairwell. “I have to swim soon.”

But rather than answer he kissed him, and Haru could feel how quickly Rin’s nerves melted away. Haru pulled them closer to the wall, hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, lips parting and hands wandering as they listened to the distant slap of feet on the linoleum, of announcements at the pool, of bustling crowds and the splash of water. When they broke apart their eyes remained closed, foreheads pressed together.

“Just like Kyoto,” Haru said, lifting his head slightly to the underside of the stairs.

“Staircases aren’t romantic.”

“This is _your_ fault.”

Rin swept his fingers through Haru’s hair, kissing him one last time. “Let’s go qualify, eh?” He pressed his hand to Haru’s heart, looking up at the staircase. But his vision went past that, beyond the pounding feet down the stairs, beyond the natatorium itself, a glint in his eyes as he smiled. “Watch me, Dad.”

 

Fujioka helped them decipher the complete schedule. It wasn’t complicated, but it was long, and Rin went through and attacked their events with a yellow highlighter. It was a defense mechanism, Haru knew, the constant poring over the grid. Fujioka humored him, answering endless questions, and even Yazaki had gone quiet. He sat at the end of their row, his own schedule clutched in both hands, but ignored it to watch the swimmers gathering at poolside.

Coach sat behind them, and Haru jolted when he grasped his shoulder. “Let’s go, Nanase.”

They’d gone through the motions countless times before—heading for the locker room; Coach’s brief pep talk; an affirmative nod before they swam. Now, as Haru sat on the locker room bench listening to Coach, Rin sat beside him. Rin had his arm around his shoulders; Rin’s warmth coursed through his skin. Before they went to the pool, Rin quickly kissed him when Coach turned his back.

“I’m not wishing you luck,” Rin said. “You don’t need it.”

 

* * *

 

Rin expected it to feel different when Haru approached the pool. He expected to jump out of his skin, anxious for Haru’s first Olympic qualifying race, pestering Coach so bad that he’d get kicked off the deck and back to the bleachers. But they’d done it so many times—Haru’s name was announced; he lifted his head in acknowledgement. He mounted the starting block on the first whistle. And then he dived.

It _didn’t_ feel different. It felt like every other race, listening to the screaming crowd, watching Haru in the water. In his heart he _knew_ it was different— _this was it_. This was the fruition of all their work, the final races to determine whether it had been worth it. Whether they were good enough. This was what they’d been waiting for.

 _It’s been worth it_ , Rin thought. After Haru flip-turned Rin glanced at the stands, seeing everyone on the edge of their seats. It was only qualifying. What would it feel like, standing at the Olympic pool? Watching his soon-to-be husband pull in front of his competitors?

It was only the first heat for the four-hundred meter free. But Haru finished long before the others, still panting when he climbed from the pool. His lane neighbors bid their congratulations and good luck. They wouldn’t know until that night who had made it for sure.

But already, his times proved it—Haruka Nanase would be in.

 

They watched the remainder of the four-hundred heats, then stayed to watch Yazaki try for the one-hundred meter breaststroke. He did all right—for someone who was so casual about his swimming, he swam hard. He’d go on to the semifinals that evening which, Yazaki would later claim, was more than he’d expected.

Haru was annoyingly calm for his final. Rin stressed more than he did as they stood in the locker room, before Haru had to go out to swim. Even Coach had left them alone, heading out to poolside early so Rin could freak out in peace.

But he couldn’t say anything—he held to both of Haru’s hands, his heart rate steadily increasing with each minute that passed.

“It’s only the four-hundred,” Rin finally whispered. “I know you can do this.”

“I will,” Haru replied, squeezing his hands.

The intercom in the locker room called for the finalists. They waited until the other swimmers emptied out of the room before quickly kissing each other, a kiss they’d both assured themselves wasn’t for luck, though it was. Haru smiled, nodding, then headed to poolside first.

Rin wasn’t far behind, keeping close to Coach as Haru looked up at the crowds, stepping up to his lane.

“I can’t sit still,” Rin muttered, and Coach only smirked as he clutched his clipboard.

His heart leaped when Haru dived.

It was flawless, as always.

There he was—in his first qualifying race, the deciding factor that would send him to the Olympics. Rin shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, clenching them into fists, feet planted on the floor.

He was swimming. Swimming perfectly, like he always had. His stroke was perfect, his turns crisp and precise, his muscles rippling with the water. Haru was swimming for him.

 _With_ him.

All his life, Rin had been swimming for his father. But there was so much more. There was more, he knew, when Haru finished his race, looking at Rin before he even checked the clock. There was more, when they both turned to the timer to see that Haru had finished first.

Coach shoved a tissue into Rin’s hands before the tears had started to flow.

_“Haru!”_

Rin couldn’t hold back—the moment Haru approached them, in a gesture that typically meant he’d talk to his coach, Rin was hugging him. He almost tipped them back onto the pool deck, and Coach laughed as he pulled Rin back by his collar. Rin clutched the tissue in his hand as he held on tight, sobbing, crying out unintelligible words that were lost amid the applause.

“Rin.” Haru finally managed to pry him off.

Rin had never seen such a smile on Haru’s face—wide and beautiful, with a shine to his eyes, one that almost looked like tears. But with the pool water soaking his face it was hard to tell. And Haru never admit they were tears at all.

 

It was the start of a long week, and Rin was getting restless. His first heat wasn’t until day three, and he couldn’t sit still all through the day prior. Haru tried for the two-hundred meter free; Fujioka went for the one-hundred back. Fujioka was a guarantee, and the announcers recognized his name, too—not only as one who didn’t quality for London, but one who had impressive finishes in the meets since. Rin cheered for him the loudest, and would swear that Fujioka noticed when he looked up at the stands. They’d both made it to the semifinals for their events, getting a quick breather until the finals the following day.

It would have been perfect had they all made their anticipated events—and though Yazaki swam in the finals for the one-hundred meter breast, he’d just fallen short for qualifying.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, waving dismissively. “I’ve still got the relay, right? I like swimming with you guys better, anyway.”

 

The heats began to blur—two-hundred free; one-hundred back; two-hundred fly. By the time Rin’s first heat finally came, Haru thought he would burst. And he _did_ , once he got into the pool, pushing harder than Haru had ever seen. It was the result of seeing all those swimmers, and not being able to swim himself. It was watching Haru and not swimming right beside him.

There was no surprise that Rin had advanced to the semifinals for the two-hundred meter fly, but he ran for Haru anyway when he got out of the pool, jumping onto him in celebration of his first victory. And Haru gladly accepted it—he held to Rin carefully, squeezing his shoulders, knowing full well that every camera was trained on the touching scene between the boys who loved each other as much as they loved to swim.

And then another day, another heat, another advance to the finals. Another post-race interview, telling another interviewer how excited they were to be there. Another night in a hotel, too tired to do anything but sleep. By the time they got to the qualifying for the one-hundred meter free, Haru had nearly forgotten how adamant he once was over not racing against Rin. He’d forgotten the fear of competition, his hopeless attempt to avoid the controversy with Rin. All he wanted was to swim, and he wanted Rin with him.

Rin was jubilate when his name was called for his heat, and he flashed Haru a smile before bounding for the pool. _I’m swimming with you_ , that grin said, before he turned to wave to the stands. _We’re swimming together._

It was weird, Haru thought, watching Rin swim freestyle. Like Haru should be there in the neighboring lane, pacing him, forcing Rin to swim faster. He wanted to be in that pool. With Rin.

Rin finished second in his heat, and his time was good. But they both knew it wouldn’t be enough to make the event.

“It’s okay,” Rin said, after he got out, slinging an arm around Haru’s shoulder. Haru expected the kiss on his cheek, preparing to duck away in front of the crowd, but instead Rin nudged him toward the pool. “You’re up, babe.”

Not even the commentators were surprised that Haru had advanced to the finals, having the best time in his heat. Rin teased him for not beating his personal best, but still cheered in victory when he placed first in the finals as well.

 

“It’s really happening,” Rin said later, in the hotel room, desperately holding to Haru beneath the tangled sheets.

“It’s because of you,” Haru replied, and Rin couldn’t resist kissing him again, but resisted staying up too late. There was no end to qualifying, no end to early mornings in the pool.

 

* * *

 

It was some deranged joke of the Olympic Committee that the fifteen-hundred-meter free was on the last day of qualifying, and Haru almost didn’t bother with his heat. But he preferred pushing his exhausted body to swim over Rin’s wrath at his giving up.

He’d been training for the fifteen-hundred meter for nearly two years, since first declaring he would at the Australian championship meet. He’d practiced countless hours at the swim club, back and forth for innumerable laps, swimming even longer than required for the event.

But he’d just missed making the required Olympic time.

“It’s fine,” Haru said, panting as he flopped to a locker room bench. “I have enough races.”

“Next time, then,” Rin said with a smirk, collapsing beside him, and they leaned against each other in exhaustion.

It didn’t feel real, when they left the stadium after their final qualifying race. It didn’t feel real when they spotted Makoto and Gou in the distance, waving to them, Gou desperately trying to keep up with Makoto as they ran for them. They both tackled Rin at the same time—he stumbled backward, shouting for them to get off, as Haru chuckled beside him, watching the three of them struggle to stand upright.

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” Gou said, clinging to Haru’s arm as well.

“You really did it,” Makoto said, holding to Rin’s shoulders. “Not that we doubted you.”

“Thanks, Mako-chan.” He gripped tight to Makoto’s forearms.

“Which ones are you racing in?” Gou asked, looping her arm through Haru’s.

“They don’t have the official lineup yet,” Haru explained.

Rin’s voice cracked. “But we made it.”

Finally, it felt real—when the four of them embraced, with Makoto pulling them all together. When Haru and Gou kissed both of Rin’s cheeks, buried in the midst of their affection. When Rin’s phone buzzed and he managed to answer without breaking the hug, and they all heard his mother’s congratulatory screaming over the phone. He started to cry great, heaving sobs, pressing his face to Makoto’s shoulder.

“We have a little surprise for you,” Makoto said, piquing both their interest.

“Dinner on me!” Gou cried, punching the air. “Well, on Mom.”

Gou insisted that Coach and their relay teammates join them at the sushi bar, and they all crowded the sidewalk as they walked to dinner. But the dinner itself wasn’t the surprise—when they rounded the corner, Rei and Nagisa were standing right outside the restaurant.

“Haru-chan! Rin-chan!”

Nagisa had been crashed at Rei’s apartment the past couple days, and his visit was so last-minute that they couldn’t get tickets to qualifying. “We watched you on TV, though! Is this your team?”

Once seated in the restaurant they ordered everything on the menu. Rin claimed he could eat it all by himself, to which no one argued. Despite the years of practices and training, none of them had ever swam so hard or so much as they did that week. The sushi chef could hardly keep up, the food disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared on the plates.

They’d received a barrage of text messages—everyone checked their phones in between gorging on sushi. Haru’s parents; Makoto’s siblings. Coach Sasabe (“He has my number?” Haru asked); Sousuke and Aiichiro; the manager at Sports Zero.

_Congratulations!_

_We knew you could do it._

_Can I come? :)_

_Don’t let us down!_

“Holy shit,” Yazaki said through a mouthful of sushi, scrolling through his own mess of incoming messages. “We’re going to _Rio_.”

They burst into another round of laughter and tears, leaning over the emptying platters to give one another high-fives. Rin shouted for more sushi. But then Gou loudly cleared her throat, rising from her chair to command control of the table. Makoto failed to hide a knowing smile, and Rei and Nagisa exchanged similar mischievous expressions—none of which escaped Haru's notice. 

“Rin,” Gou said, and Rin couldn’t remember the last time she’d used his given name. It was too foreign, too formal. “Mom wishes she could be here, and sent something to me to give to you. She said you should wear it during the Olympic team announcement.”

Rin looked around the table. Haru looked just as clueless as Rin felt, but he zeroed in on Makoto—he avoided Rin’s eyes, only gazing up at Gou, a small smile on his face. “What’s going on?” he asked skeptically.

She cleared her throat again and, as if on cue, Makoto procured a small, gift-wrapped boxed adorned with a gold ribbon. The box was passed around the table, pausing at each of their friends as they admired it. Nagisa held on the longest; Rei had to pry it from his hands to pass it to Rin. But even when the gift was in Rin’s hands, he could only stare at it curiously.

“I don’t trust that woman,” he said, shaking it. There was a distinct _thunk-thunk_ as its contents hit the walls of the box. “Is this embarrassing?”

“You’re always embarrassed,” Haru said, touching the end of the ribbon. Rin kicked him under the table. Haru smiled, brushing stray glitter from the ribbon off Rin’s hand. “Open it already.”

They all leaned over the table as Rin gingerly peeled off the wrapping. He draped the ribbon around Haru’s shoulders, leaving a trail of gold dust on his jacket. But Haru didn’t shake it off. He peered over Rin’s shoulder as he lifted the box’s lid.

Rin furrowed his brows. “What the . . .”

Haru leaned in closer. “It’s a medal.”

“I can see that!”

It was a cheap gold medal, attached to a frayed red-and-white ribbon. He handled it carefully, transferring it to his palm, running his thumb over the embossed swimmer on the front.

Gou skipped around the table to hug her brother, kissing his cheek. “You don’t recognize it?”

“Gou . . .” He sobbed, a single hiccup as Gou picked it up by the ribbon, then draped it around his neck. It was short—child-sized—falling to his breastbone, and he immediately reached to touch it.

“What is it?” Fujioka asked.

Rin breathed in deep. Now, Haru’s hand was at his neck, stroking the ribbon. Nagisa and Rei simultaneously leaned farther over their plates for a closer look. Rin grasped the medal in his hand, the fine ridges around its edge rough on his palm. “It was my father’s.”

The scene felt familiar—surrounded by his friends, telling the story of his dream from the beginning. His father’s childhood relay victory; his Olympic goals. Makoto draped an arm across the back of Gou’s chair as she sat down again, then squeezed her shoulder. Nagisa was holding back tears as Rei smiled, subtly placing his napkin in Nagisa’s lap. Haru held Rin’s hand as he spoke, telling them all how he’d adopted his father’s dream, and how it had become his own. Nagisa hastily wiped his tears.

“I’m still swimming for him,” Rin said, fingering the medal. “Every day.” Then he looked at Haru, who hadn’t taken his eyes from him—those beautiful, blue eyes, the way they smiled at him even when his lips didn’t. Rin stroked Haru’s jaw, smiling through his tear-blurred vision. “And for you.”

A blush burst onto Haru’s cheeks as he averted his eyes. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Yazaki laughed as he reached for another sushi roll. “You two have _got_ to win at Rio.”

“Haru.” Now Makoto stood to come around the table, one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Of course we couldn’t leave you out. Matsuoka-san wanted to give you Rin’s medal, but she couldn’t find it.”

“That’s because _I_ have it!” Rin cried.

Haru turned to him. “You do?”

“Somewhere . . .” He mumbled, looking down at the medal on his chest.

Makoto smiled, pulling a similar gold medal from his pocket, one that Haru recognized at once. From across the table, he heard Nagisa giggle. But he could only watch the medal as it was draped around his neck, the disc falling to his chest. “You can wear mine,” Makoto said.

Coach leaned over his plate, scrutinizing Haru’s face. “Is that a tear, Nanase?”

“No!” Haru hastily turned away but Rin was right there, throwing his arms around him, pulling Haru into not so much a hug as a chokehold. Haru flailed his arms, trying to push Rin away, but he wouldn’t let go until he planted a wet kiss on Haru’s lips.

Fujioka looked down at his plate and Yazaki pretended to gag, clawing at his throat. When Haru finally pushed him off he covered his face with his napkin, but Rin heard the light laugh that he tried so hard to hide.

The group reluctantly split after dinner. Nagisa hugged them all for so long, Haru thought they’d be standing there for hours.

“It was good to see you,” Haru said, as Nagisa squeezed him tighter.

“I anticipate your victory at Rio,” Rei said, adjusting his glasses.

“You know it,” Rin replied with a grin, clapping him on the back.

Makoto wanted to walk with Haru for a while, insisting they had to catch up. The team dispersed, promising to meet early the following morning, one last round of hugs before they went their separate ways. Rin walked with the old Iwatobi team to the train station, reminding Haru not to stay out too late.

Haru and Makoto watched them all disappear down the sidewalk. “How’s Kou?” Haru asked.

Makoto’s face instantly lit up. They took to the sidewalk themselves, taking the slow walk back to Haru’s hotel. “Things have been really good. It’s hard to get together sometimes with school, but . . . it’s nice. I like her a lot.”

It seemed strange to Haru that these roads were unfamiliar to him, but Makoto knew them so well. Haru had only ever taken a car service from the hotel to the natatorium, so it felt different on foot. A difference city, a different skyline.

“Are you nervous?” Makoto asked.

“Not really.” Haru touched his chest, where the small medal hung beneath his jacket. “Maybe a little.”

It was too soon before they reached the hotel. Haru stared up at the building, wondering which room was theirs. Knowing that when they checked out of the hotel in a couple days, their real training would begin. For the Olympics.

“What will we do after?” he asked.

Makoto followed his gaze, as if the tall looming structure would provide the answer. “Whatever you’d like.”

Haru pushed his hands into his pockets. “What will you do?”

“Find a job,” he said, turning back to Haru. “I’d like to find something closer to home. The city is nice, but . . . I miss home.”

Haru couldn’t know if it was a ploy to get him to admit a similar sentiment. For what it was worth, he was unsure himself. The life of a professional athlete was hectic; he’d have never pursued it without Rin. That was a fact he’d always known. Haru enjoyed their life in Kyoto, but it was the simple things that brought him pleasure—swimming and living with Rin.

He could do that anywhere.

He could do that in Iwatobi.

When they bid goodnight Haru stepped through the hotel’s sliding glass doors, but watched Makoto leave from the lobby windows. There were certain things he’d always know—the shift of Makoto’s back as he walked, the slight spring in his step when he was happy. He _was_ happy, with his future career, and with the girl he liked. Haru smiled. It didn’t matter how far apart they were, or where they would settle down, it was those simple things that would bring them joy. He turned to head up to the room.

He wasn’t sure whether Rin had returned yet. Haru stood outside the door and listened for signs of activity, but heard nothing from within the room. There was no television, no ripple of water from the bathroom. Haru swiped his keycard.

He was about to flip the switch when he froze, catching the soft candlelight from the room’s center. Rin stood at the window, his back to the door, as he looked out at the city. The bed had been pushed to the wall and a low table sat in the middle of the room, bearing the candles and a tea set.

“Rin?”

When he turned, the candlelight illuminated his sharp features, accentuating his cheekbones. He was dressed, Haru noticed—not fancy, but in a white button-down shirt neatly tucked into his trousers, the collar open at the throat. One hand was in his pants pocket, the other nervously fiddling with his promise ring.

“Haru.” He slowly approached to rest his hands on Haru’s hips, meeting his lips with a kiss. He smelled sweet, like the first bloom of spring. “Come sit with me.”

Haru recognized the setup at once: the delicate teacups, the dried cherry blossom sitting at the bottom of each. When they sat Rin poured hot water from the teapot into the cups, and they watched the blossoms unfurl. Rin’s movements were stiff, a clear attempt to prevent his hands from shaking. He set the teapot down slowly, soundlessly, staring into his cup as the blossom bloomed.

“Cherry blossoms in water,” Rin said, raising Haru’s cup in both hands. “I never thought of it that way before.” He brought the cup to Haru’s lips, tilting it slightly for him to take a sip. Then he set the cup in Haru’s open hands.

They sat in silence, watching the flicker of the candles, sipping their tea. Rin had kept the curtains open, and the dim lights from the city cast the room in an ethereal glow. They listened to footsteps down the hall, growing louder, then fading as they passed the room.

“Haru.” Rin carefully set down his teacup. “Haruka.”

It was seldom Rin spoke his full name, and so sincerely. When he met Rin’s eyes the flickering candlelight was reflected in them. “I want to build a home one day,” Rin said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll plant a sakura tree in the yard. A small one, to watch it grow.” He twisted his hands in his lap, partially hidden by the table. “Each time it blooms it will remind me of the year that’s gone by, and its growth will remind me how much I’ve grown, too.” He reached for Haru’s fingers, touching the skin smoothed by the water. “Haruka Nanase.” He covered that hand with his own, concealing it, protecting it. “I want to plant that tree with you.”

Rin’s warmth surged up Haru's arm and through his chest, melting his heart and his tense muscles. Rin’s heart visibly beat in his chest, a slight pulse beneath his white shirt. Haru felt the same pulse, like he’d burst with pride and love. He nodded, unable to speak. He slid to Rin’s side of the table, cupping his face in both his hands. Then he kissed him slowly, feeling the furious beat of his own heart and the wisp of hair that tickled his nose. Feeling the warmth of his lips and Rin’s hands on his waist.

“Marry me, Haru,” Rin whispered.

Haru kissed him again. “Yes.”

“After the Olympics?”

Haru smiled, that small, soft smile, then nodded.

When they went to bed, they undressed each other slowly. Haru liked unbuttoning Rin’s shirt; he didn’t wear an undershirt. Haru kissed his chest as he popped the buttons one by one, moving down his chest as Rin lay back on the bed. He spread a hand over Rin’s heart, certain he could _hear_ its pulse through his palm.

Haru looked at his face. After all the years, all the times they’d lay together, Rin still looked on him with wonder, in disbelief that they shared a bed. He touched Haru’s hand like it was new, like it had never touched Rin’s body before.

“Rin Matsuoka.” Haru kissed his smooth chest. “I love you.”

Rin threaded his fingers through Haru’s hair, responding with a kiss to the top of his head while pushing Haru’s shirt up. Haru sat up, straddling his legs, peeling his shirt off before lowering back down to kiss his lips. Rin’s hand wandered over Haru’s skin, its freshly-shaved surface a new sensation to his fingertips.

When they were shed of their clothes they only felt the other’s body—the hard muscles of Rin’s abdomen; the notches of Haru’s spine, Rin’s fingers playing at them like piano keys. And the music of Haru’s response, his groans lower with each tick down his back, the slow grind of his hips against Rin’s.

“Make love to me,” Rin whispered, and finally— _finally_ —Haru’s hand glided southward. Rin opened up to him, welcoming the finger that slid inside.

 _My husband_ , Haru thought, the word new and fresh in his mind again, as Rin’s head tilted back to his touch. Testing the way his muscles clenched, then eventually relaxed. “My husband,” he murmured, tasting Rin’s lips, tasting the salt of his skin. He was eager to obey Rin’s command but waited for the signal, for that easy smile that told him it was okay, that he was ready. Haru eased into him, lips crashing as they slowly began to move.

 _“Haru.”_ He breathed hard against Haru’s mouth, trying not to show the pain that crossed his face, calming when Haru touched his lips, then stroked his cheek. “I . . . I want . . .”

Haru kissed the corner of his eye. “Tell me.”

Instead his teeth grazed Haru’s lip, his nails digging into Haru’s back. He held tighter, urging him in deeper, throwing a leg around Haru’s hips and crying out in pain.

“Rin?”

But he was all right, kissing Haru furiously, and Haru no longer needed to ask—he wanted _this_ , he wanted _them_ , he wanted all they had promised and all they’d vowed to accomplish, victory over the water and eternal love and never feeling alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to be modest for a moment when I say, _damn_ I love this chapter.
> 
> I— I didn't cry while writing it, I swear. *Haru pout*
> 
> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/93694066933) on tumblr.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly meant to post this Sunday, per tradition, but I got home at stupid o'clock at night and was half dead and had to work in the morning (I don't know how I'm functioning right now), but it was Otakon so it was worth it. Expect more pictures at tumblr soon :D

They heard the crowd before they saw them.

Haru hadn’t audibly complained about the public attention, but Rin could tell when they’d received their matching polo shirts: he stood close by as they pulled them on, uncommonly close for Haru. Rin straightened Haru’s collar, smoothing it down in the back, then pecked his cheek. The ribbons of their childhood medals peeked out around their necks, though no one on the team asked about it. Now, Rin touched Haru’s chest, feeling for the weight that lay beneath his shirt.

The Japanese swim team would parade onto the pool deck, wave to the crowd, and be formally introduced. As a team. Rin was positively giddy, more so when they lined up alphabetically and he was standing right beside Haru.

“Can we hold hands?” Rin asked as he leaned against him, batting his eyes.

“For the love of God, please don’t,” Yazaki shouted from down the line, and a collective chuckle rippled through the team. Haru just rolled his eyes.

Fujioka was first in the line, tall and silent. The line spiraled around the locker room, waiting for the announcement from the deck and for the head coach to wave them on. Rin felt Haru at his back, his warmth radiating though they didn’t touch.

The announcement was crisp and clear, even from the locker room: _“The 2016 Olympic team!”_

Haru’s fingers brushed the small of Rin’s back, and he glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “You ready, babe?” Rin whispered. Haru nodded, nudging him slightly when the girl in front of him started to walk.

Here was a different stage, a different performance. It was nothing like the thrill of the crowd when they were in the water. _“Kyoshi Fujioka,”_ the announcer began, and Fujioka lifted a hand in acknowledgement, a slight wave to the cheers. Rin quickly scanned the crowd. He felt for the medal beneath his polo, pressing a hand to his heart as he spotted Makoto and Gou in the second row. Makoto had an arm around her waist, but it wasn’t merely a sign of affection—he was holding her back, preventing her from falling into the row in front of them as she screamed their names. He grinned as each of their teammates were announced in succession. His thumb rubbed the back of his finger, feeling for his ring, feeling how close Haru was walking behind him.

 _“Rin Matsuoka,”_ the announcer boomed, and he lifted both arms into the air, wildly waving, unashamed by the tear trickling down his cheek. He waved directly to Makoto and Gou; he waved toward the heavens, the sun filtering through the skylights and illuminating his smile. _I’m here_ , he thought. _Dad, I’m here_.

 _“Haruka Nanase.”_ Haru lifted his head. He didn’t wear his customary small smile, the subtle hint of happiness—he was _radiant_ , his smile rivaling Rin’s own, clasping Rin’s shoulder with one hand as he waved with the other.

When Yazaki’s name was announced they all applauded for him, the last in the line, Rin hollering the loudest for his teammate. Yazaki did a little dance as he stepped into place, basking in the attention, bowing toward the stands and turning to bow again to the announcer.

Now, Haru’s fingers did slide between Rin’s.

It was a slight surge, a gentle squeeze before his hand was gone again, but Rin felt it all through the ceremony. Haru constantly touched the small bulge beneath his shirt and Rin felt his own, too, warming his chest beneath the cotton polo. A cloud had passed over the sun, briefly encasing them in a shadow, but when the light came through the skylights again the room seemed brighter, the pool clearer. Haru’s gaze swept the audience row by row before zeroing in on Makoto and Gou, who stared directly at them, but then he slowly turned his eyes to Rin.

Haru brushed his fingers again. _Thank you_ , he mouthed, and the corner of his lip twitched as he turned away, now staring into the clear depths of the pool. Rin shoved his fists into his pants pockets, swallowing back the endless flow of tears.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t often that Rin had a chance to witness Haru’s nervous habits. Haru was rarely nervous—he didn’t rub the back of his neck like Rin did, or twist his ring around his finger, or laugh too loudly at things that weren’t particularly funny. But despite having flown before, and on flights that were upward of ten hours long, it was obvious that he still hated being in the air.

That was when Rin noticed his habits—how he stood too close, holding his hand in public. Or gripping the strap of his carry-on, which still held the tiny koala from Australia. He mindlessly stroked the koala’s head as they went through customs and security.

This time, at least, they didn’t travel alone. Japan’s Olympic swim team surrounded them, the men and women and all their coaches. Their coach from Kyoto had made the cut, too, and was now sitting across the waiting area chatting with Fujioka. Rin slung an arm around the back of Haru’s chair, watching the departures screen like it would change any time soon. And Haru slid over as close as he could, still playing with the koala clip on his bag.

A couple of the girls from the team sat across from them, and Rin struck up a conversation. They, too, were from a small town, right outside Nagasaki. Though Haru said little, he paid attention—the way the girls watched them and the easy way they leaned across the aisle, laughing at all of Rin’s stupid jokes. Haru glanced around the waiting room. All around them, men and women were mingling with one another, laughing and standing too close and casually touching arms or exposed skin. Haru softly chuckled—perhaps they were good company, but these girls were more interested in talking with Rin and Haru because they weren’t trying to occupy their beds in Rio.

“Eh?” Rin nudged his shoulder. “What are you thinking about over there?”

“Nothing,” he said, avoiding his eyes, staring up at the departures screen instead.

When they finally boarded they had seats in the back, Rin and Haru in the very last row. When Yazaki sat in front of them, Rin kicked his seat.

“We’ll have none of that,” Yazaki said, wagging a finger over his headrest.

They were all used to the red-eye flights, the complimentary pillows and blankets, the darkened cabin. Rin pulled the plastic wrapping off his blanket and spread it across both their laps.

“Thirty hours on a plane,” Haru mumbled as he fastened his seatbelt. Rin had let him have the window seat again.

“But there’s a layover in Paris!” Rin said. “Come on, Haru. It’s romantic.”

He scowled. “Wake me when we get there.”

Haru _did_ sleep, once they were in the air—after gripping Rin’s hand during takeoff—and he dozed on Rin’s shoulder, hugging his arm beneath their shared blanket. Rin stared over his head out the window, at Asia glittering below them. “We’re going to the Olympics,” he whispered, kissing the top of Haru’s head.

Rin, would have liked to sleep as well, but he was restless. He read a book and typed up a blog entry (to be posted later; he refused to pay for in-flight Wi-Fi); he slowly ate the airline’s supplied snack, eating the peanuts one at a time. Fujioka turned around in his seat and they spoke briefly of their layover plans, and it was probably the longest conversation Rin had ever had with his teammate. They had only six hours in Paris, but Rin was determined to get to the Eiffel tower. Fujioka couldn’t resist the mini-vacation himself, he’d admitted.

When Fujioka fell asleep, despite Yazaki snoring beside him, Rin settled back in his seat. He’d lifted the shared armrest and Haru had nearly fallen into his lap, cuddled against Rin’s shoulder with one arm slung around his waist. Rin rested his head atop Haru’s, nuzzling his hair, and tried not to think about how Haru originally hadn’t wanted to try for Rio at all. He sought Haru’s hand beneath the blanket and loosely held on, rubbing the ring on Haru’s finger.

“Hn?” Haru groggily lifted his head. “Are we there?”

“Not yet.” Rin slouched down until they were face-to-face, waiting until after someone had passed going down the aisle, before softly kissing his lips. He expected a quick peck but Haru held on, pulling the blanket over their heads.

“This is really obvious,” Rin whispered, as footsteps hurried down the aisle again.

“Don’t care.” Haru kissed him again, nipping his lip before they broke apart.

“You’re in a mood,” he mumbled, as the blanket slid off their heads. Haru shrugged as Rin held him closer, grinning as they kissed again.

 

It was a relief when they touched down in Paris, more so for the chance to walk around. The team clustered in the airport, stretching and yawning, breaking to find food or head into Paris proper. Coach tried to convince them to stay around the airport—the layover was only six hours—but they wouldn’t have it.

“Just don’t miss the connecting fight, all right?” he said with a sigh.

Fujioka had studied the map, and Yazaki took care of the currency exchange. It was raining when they piled into a taxi, but the sun was threatened to break through the clouds. And they saw the Eiffel tower long before they were near it—looming over the city, the top hidden in the fog. Rin gripped Haru’s hand, bouncing in his seat when they pulled up to the block.

“If you two are going to be all lovey-dovey,” Yazaki said when they got out of the cab, “I’m heading up by myself.”

“Don’t leave me with them,” Fujioka replied, and Rin punched him in the arm.

The place was packed with tourists, and the air was sticky, but it had stopped raining. Rin wrapped an arm around Haru’s waist as they stood beneath the Eiffel tower, heads tilted back to stare skyward, unable to see the top through the fog. The four of them decided to go up together, despite Yazaki’s threats, though Rin and Haru were sworn to no make-out sessions until they reached the top.

“Deal,” Rin said, and Haru pouted as he looked toward the elevator.

The elevator was packed; Haru was pressed to the wall, Rin cocooning him with his own body. Haru looked over his shoulder through the glass-walled elevator, watching the ground recede as the car jolted in its ascent. In the crowded elevator no one saw Haru’s thumb slip under the hem of Rin’s shirt, or the slow circles it made on his bare hip. Nor was it unusual that they inched closer, bodies flush in the packed elevator. As Rin’s breath dampened Haru’s cheek—they stood so close, so comfortably—they watched the tourists below, transforming from individual beings to indistinguishable pinpricks. It was a long climb to the top, including an elevator transfer; Rin didn’t think the “no making out rule” counted when they weren’t in the elevator, and when he kissed Haru’s lips waiting for the transfer Yazaki kicked his shin. When they finally reached the top the fog had mostly cleared, and the four of them stood at the railing and stared down at Paris stretched below.

“This _is_ romantic,” Fujioka admitted.

“Can we make out now?” Rin asked, and Haru shoved him in the shoulder.

But their teammates silently walked away as Rin and Haru continued to gaze down at Paris. Rin stood behind him, holding tight around his waist. All around them other couple were similarly cozy, and not merely between men and women—another gay couple smiled at them in passing, offering a slight wave, and Rin returned the smile as he rested his cheek on Haru’s shoulder.

“If we weren’t engaged,” Haru said, still staring down at the silent bustle of the city, “I’d expect you to propose here.”

Rin spun him around then, face to face, grasping both his hands. Haru merely blinked at him, unsurprised. Rin cleared his throat as he squared his shoulders, tossing his wind-tousled hair away from his face. “Haruka Nanase, will you marry me?”

A few people stopped to watch, though Rin hadn’t gotten down to one knee and Haru wouldn’t have let him. But to watch lovers atop the Eiffel tower, hands clasped, with the word “marry” on the wind, they watched. They waited for the other man’s agreement, the promise of eternal devotion.

“Idiot.” The spectators shuffled uncomfortably but when Haru kissed Rin’s lips, they were greeted with a round of applause. Haru looked away, down at the city again, as a blush bloomed high on his cheeks. “I already said yes. Twice.”

They took innumerable photos; their teammates returned and took photos with them. Fujioka was nervous about missing the connecting flight, though it wasn’t for several hours, but they headed back to the airport regardless to wait it out.

“We’ll come back here again,” Rin said, staring at the city as it passed.

“After the Olympics,” Yazaki said, “we can do whatever we want.”

“He wasn’t including you,” Haru said, Rin’s ringing laughter echoed over the cab.

 

The entire team was restless on the second leg of the flight. Many wandered the aisles, squeezing into their friends’ seats to chat, bustling with pent-up energy. Haru stared out the window at the ocean as Rin sat beside him, talking to a few guys from Tokyo. They knew Makoto from the swim club and Haru kept an ear out, though they only said good things about him.

“You all went to high school together?” one of the guys asked.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Rin answered, then jerked a thumb to Haru. “This one’s been attached to his hip even longer.”

“You’re lucky,” he replied. “Tachibana’s a great guy.”

Haru smiled down at the ocean.

“Have you seen that girlfriend of his?” he went on. “Talk about a hot piece of—”

“Oi!” When Rin lunged for their teammate Haru didn’t even turn when he grabbed his arm, yanking him back down into his seat. Rin fumed, squirming in Haru’s firm grip.

“Hey, Matsuoka! Calm down!” The guy held up both hands in defense, backing into the seat behind him. “I’m joking! Tachibana told us she’s your sister.”

“She _is_ cute,” his friend replied, stroking his chin.

“Runs in the family,” Haru deadpanned. Rin scowled as he crossed his arms, slumping in his seat.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before land came into view.

All across the plane the swim team was crowded to the windows, nudging their seatmates and pointing toward the land like they weren’t all wide-eyed and awed by the same sight. And in the back of the cabin, Rin legs were slung across Haru’s lap as they stared out the window together. The Olympic park was clearly visible, even from their altitude—its stadium and lights were spread across the shorelines, already glittering in welcome. Flags from around the world encircled the park, and Haru pointed out Japan’s when he found it before Rin. Yazaki was screaming obscenities in disbelief and joy, to the dismay of the non-Olympic passengers on the flight. A flight attendant finally came over to ask him to settle down.

Haru put an arm around Rin’s waist, catching the glint in his eye before he leaned his head to Haru’s shoulder. Haru combed his hair through his fingers as they stared at the park, watching it expand as the plane flew closer to shore.

“We’re here,” Rin whispered, as the plane began its descent. The flight attendant requested they all sit back in their seats and buckle their safety belts, but even as he sat up straight Rin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window. Haru reached for his hand as the plane dropped closer to their destination.

“We’re here,” Haru replied.

 

Some people from their team had been to the Olympics before. They’d been familiar with the sights of London, the thrill of living in the Olympic Village, chatting and reminiscing over the years long passed. They seemed unimpressed with the apartment building at Rio—it looked like a dormitory in comparison—but Haru would have been happy with a futon in the dirt after all their traveling. The men’s swim team would all be staying in the same wing; the coaches shouted orders for their room assignments, and it was a relief when they were finally handed their room keys.

“Dinner’s at seven if you’re coming,” the head coach shouted as the team dispersed. “There should be a map in your room!” But Rin was already fiddling with the lock on their door, dragging Haru and their luggage into the room.

He burst out laughing the moment they stepped inside. “You want the bed by the window?”

Haru wasn’t surprised by the two single beds—he didn’t think most Olympians traveled with their soon-to-be-espoused—but still frowned at the sleeping arrangements. But Rin’s arms were around him before the door even fully closed, admiring their living quarters for the next three weeks.

“My dorm at Kyoto was better than this,” Haru said, loosely holding him around the waist. “It had a kitchen.”

Rin shrugged. “C’mon, let’s test out these beds.”

They shoved one bed against the wall before falling into it, crashing against the wall as they snuggled together. It was a tight fit.

“We could push them together,” Haru suggested, as Rin began kissing his face.

“And fall into the crack in the middle of the night? No thanks.” He lightly sucked at Haru’s neck as a wayward hand slid up the back of Rin’s shirt. “I need to make out with you,” Rin breathed against his neck, “and then we’re checking out the village.”

Haru lightly scratched his back under his shirt. “Fine.”

Their teammates were running up and down the hallways, banging on walls and doors, but Rin and Haru melted into the single bed, stretching around each other after the long flight. Haru wrapped a leg around Rin’s hips; Rin slid a hand up his thigh, grabbing his ass as Haru fidgeted beneath him.

Voices from the hallway permeated their room. “Where’re the girls staying?” “I’m checking out the shops.” “You’re such a tourist, Tsuzuki.” “Where the hell are Matsuoka and Nanase?”

Yazaki’s laugh rang over them. “I wouldn’t knock on their door for a while.”

Rin didn’t have time to break their kiss before he snorted in laughter. Haru grunted as he wiped saliva from his mouth.

There was a week before their events began. They scoped out the Olympic Village, leaving no corner unturned. Rin insisted on wearing their team jackets whenever they left the room, though most other athletes did the same. As they ate in the cafeteria they’d watch big-name athletes pass, people they’d only seen on television or online. The weight room was packed at all hours of the day, and the practice pool was bustling. They tried to get to the pool early, but it made no difference—their competitors were swimming laps from five in the morning until midnight every day.

“Good thing I woke you up for all those early runs,” Rin said, as they sat at poolside and studied the schedule for the third time that day. “Heats starts at five o’clock.”

Haru frowned. “Don’t remind me.”

When they did get a lane, they often had to share. They swam slow laps, taking turns and watching the other swim. They side-eyed the other teams, whispering over who was a threat to their victory, ignoring those they clearly surpassed already.

They’d first spied the American swim team late night in the cafeteria. Rin gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at his self-proclaimed threat to the gold medal. But his concern wasn’t off-base—it _was_ his rival’s third Olympics games, and with countless medals to his name.

But the glares were reciprocated. Other countries watched them, knowing full well who the big shots from Japan were. Even Haru walked a little straighter as they traveled the village, checking out the shops and mingling with their Japanese compatriots.

Haru initiated their hand-holding most often, surprising Rin every time he kissed his cheek while they walked the Village. When Rin would point out how much Haru hated public affection, he’d merely shrug. “This isn’t public,” he’d reply, and no explanation was required. The Village was another world, a utopia for the world’s finest.

 _And we’re a part of them_ , he thought, returning each of his kisses.

And it was different still, when they retired at night, hidden behind their room’s locked door. The walls were thin—they could hear their neighbor’s television loud and clear—so they tried to keep quiet, muffling their groans in pillows or the other’s skin. They didn’t dare have sex; not only were the walls paper-thin but it would affect their performance in the water, and every precaution counted. But to say they “settled” for other forms of intimacy was an understatement—they were trembling with pent-up emotion, and there was only so much they could physically handle before getting overexcited. As a result they only cuddled before bed, slow kisses as they tangled together, before falling into an easy sleep. Surrounded by each other, and their dreams, and by Rio.

One of the girls from the swim team approached them the night before the opening ceremony, inviting them out to the pub. “A bunch of us are just going to chill for a while,” she said, “before things get crazy.”

Rin eyed Haru expectedly, but he’d already agreed to go. It was impossible to resist that hopeful look on Rin’s face, knowing the joy that would follow his acceptance, combined with a night of not thinking about competition.

The group of Japanese Olympians took over one of the pubs in the village; anyone who was drinking didn’t have their events until later in the week, and all the swimmers were completely sober. They mingled, a common ground based only in their athletics. But it was enough—they shared childhood stories of grand dreams, families and friends who supported them along the way. Rin wore his father’s medal over his polo shirt, which was a guaranteed conversation starter. Haru had been cornered by a soccer player, listening to her talk about the games they’d already played as he watched Rin across the room.

Though they didn’t stand near each other, and the pub itself was dim, Haru saw how Rin illuminated the room. He talked to anyone who approached and he now had a crowd, telling stories of his father and his own days at the Iwatobi Swim Club. He had a glass of seltzer in his hand, most of which splashed on the floor as he talked animatedly.

 _He’s going to be my husband_ , Haru thought, watching Rin clap a guy on the shoulder. He didn’t realize he was smiling until the girl who was talking to him pointed it out.

“I’m not smiling,” he said, a blatant lie as he tried to neutralized his face again. Though he was looking in her direction, his attention was on Rin in his peripheral vision, hearing his laugh again.

She laughed and swirled the ice in her glass. “Hey, let me buy you a drink.”

“I have water,” he replied.

“So you’re a swimmer, huh?” She made an obvious show of scaling his body, like she could see the muscles beneath his team-issued polo shirt.

But that got him talking. The water was familiar territory, and now he spoke of swimming at Iwatobi High School. She countered with her own history, of joining the boys’ soccer team because the girls in her hometown were too prissy for sports.

“They let you do that?” he asked, incredulous.

“No,” she said with a laugh, squeezing his arm. He took a step away, though she followed as she took a swig of her drink. He could smell the liquor on her breath. “I’ve gotta say, you are the cutest thing.”

 _Cute?_ Haru averted his eyes, homing in on a smiling, chattering Rin as he replied, “I’m seeing someone.”

“Aren’t we all?” She squeezed his arm again.

The swim team retired early. While the rest of them rushed to their rooms Haru wanted to take a stroll, and Rin delighted at the romantic gesture. It was more a need to clear his lungs than romance, to purge the lingering scent of old sweat and liquor. The night air wasn’t particularly cool but it was clean and smelled of the sea, and Rin was walking beside him.

“I saw you made a friend,” Rin said, as he took Haru’s hand.

He shrugged. “She called me cute.”

“You _are_ cute,” Rin said, bumping his shoulder.

Haru said nothing, scowling as he looked toward the ocean.

Rin looked up at the sky, though they couldn’t see the stars past the blinding lights of the park. They stopped to sit on a bench that overlooked the sea. Haru inhaled the calming, familiar scent of salt water.

“It doesn’t feel real,” Rin said, as they watched the waves crash to the shore. “We’re at the fucking Olympics, Haru.”

Haru mindlessly stroked Rin’s thigh. “I know.”

He draped an arm around Haru’s shoulder and they scooted closer, knees and thighs pressing together.

“I’m glad,” Haru said. Rin visually traced the line of Haru’s jaw, the curve of his lip. He rubbed his thumb on Haru’s shoulder, enraptured by the subtle tick of his muscle in response. “This is all because of you,” he went on. “I don’t care if we don’t win. I’m . . . happy.”

Rin rested his forehead to the side of Haru’s face, breathing in deep. He felt the shift of Haru’s cheek when he smiled, the fingers tracing the threads of his jeans.

“I’m so happy, Haru.”

But happiness was for reunions with old friends, perfecting a recipe for your future spouse, kisses before bed. Happiness falsely described the euphoria of fulfilling your father’s dream, the fruition of a life of training, sitting beside the man you love in the Olympic village. Knowing he felt the same. Rin kissed his cheek, his lips lingering long after.

“Let’s go to bed,” Haru said, rising from the bench, extending a hand to help him up.

 

* * *

 

They couldn’t see the action as they lined up for the athlete’s parade: the distant sound of music, the swell of the audience. Rin tugged on his red polo shirt, then swiped a speck of dust from his white trousers—the same outfit they all wore, in the crowd of Japanese athletes. He touched the slight lump at his chest, the child’s medal that hung beneath his shirt. Haru held the cuff of Rin’s sleeve as he played with the ribbon around his own neck.

And Yazaki wouldn’t stop _talking_. He was being annoying, yammering incessantly, trying to convince them that he could hear everything that was happening on the stage. The announcements were muffled, out past the seemingly eternal line of Olympians. Rin set a hand on Haru’s back, though it did nothing to calm him.

They stood so close that Haru felt Rin’s phone vibrate in his pocket.

“Eh?” Haru peered at the phone when Rin took it out, greeted by a slew of faces crammed into a tiny photograph. “It’s from Ma.” _Olympics party!_ the text read.

She’d made no secret about trying to get to Rio, especially after learning their sponsors would provide their families with tickets to their events. But the cost for even one to travel had been difficult; to include her daughter was nigh impossible. Rin hadn’t asked, but he knew that even the trip to Australia had set her back. Now, she sent photos instead—crowded into the Matsuoka living room, his mother was surrounded by the founding members of the Iwatobi swim team. Haru, too, received a text. _We’re all so proud of you_ , Makoto had written. _I wish we could be there!_

Rin wouldn’t stop staring at his phone. He smiled, scrolling through the influx of photo messages. They were having a proper party, all dressed in Japan’s colors and wearing fake gold medals around their necks. It was early morning, so a western-style breakfast was spread on the table with danish, fresh fruit, and juices.

 _Good luck onii-chan!_ Gou texted.

Haru received one from Rei. _I apologize for all the messages. I’ve told them that you’re busy!_

Yazaki and Fujioka wanted to see, standing behind them to check out the photos over their shoulders. They laughed over Nagisa, who had insisted on wearing only his swimsuit to the party. Rei somehow ended up with everyone’s medals around his neck, white-faced as Rin’s mom kissed his cheek. Gou hugged Makoto tight, and the camera had clicked before he had a chance to look up, staring down fondly at her instead. And—

“My _parents_?” Haru sputtered. They looked wildly out of place on the Matsuoka’s floor, but they were waving and smiling. They, too, both wore the cheap gold medals and were sharing a plate of fruit between them.

“How romantic,” Rin cooed.

Haru frowned. “Rin,” he said, touching Rin’s cheek, desperate to change the topic, “you haven’t cried.”

He jerked away. “I— I don’t always cry!”

Fujioka and Yazaki glanced at each other, then both cocked an eyebrow at Rin.

“S-Shut up!” He pointed an accusing finger at Haru. “You cry, too!”

“I do not cry!”

“I’ve never seen him cry,” Yazaki offered.

Fujioka put a hand on both Rin’s and Haru’s shoulders to silence them. Distantly, an announcer was fighting to be heard over the crowd. The beginning chords of the Olympic theme had been sounded, and the first country was moving into the stadium.

“Haru,” Rin said, their brief squabble forgotten as the team shifted restlessly. He pressed his mouth of Haru’s ear. “My Haruka. My fiancé.”

“What are you doing?” Haru mumbled.

His chuckle was low against Haru’s ear. “Time to go.”

Haru smiled slightly, turning away as the crowd began to move.

They were no stranger to an audience. They lived for the thrill of the crowd, the welcoming cheers. But nothing could have prepared them for entering the Olympics stadium. Thousands of spectators were crammed into the stands, and the floor was swarming with athletes. Haru’s eyes went wide, staring up at the audience as Japan was announced. Rin lifted both arms to the sky, laughing and waving. There were too many cameras surrounding them to focus on only one. They waved, greeting Rin’s mother and the party back in Iwatobi. When Rin threw an arm around Haru’s shoulders they stumbled in their steps, but he didn’t push him off. They weren't the only ones draped around each other, their countrymen clustered together as they pointed and waved in all directions. For once, Rin didn’t have to remind Haru to smile. They both continued to wave as the cameras zoomed in on Japan, their country.

It was over too soon. The announcers were now focused on Jordan, the country immediately following them, but the Japanese team continued to walk the circuit, following the surge of Olympians to where they’d stand for the remainder of the ceremony.

 _Olympians_. They watched the rest march into the stadium, countless athletes they’d soon compete against. Rin idly wondered which were the swimmers, who they’d see in the pool. Haru stood with an arm around Rin’s waist as they watched. Around them, their teammates were taking photos with their phones. They were laughing and crying, gathering in small groups to take photos of themselves and of the stadium.

“Rin,” Haru said, digging his phone from his pocket. He held it out before them, as if requesting permission to take a photo. Rin wiped the tears from his eyes before wrapping his arms around Haru’s neck, pressing their cheeks together as Haru took the shot.

“Send it to my mom,” Rin said, though Haru was already texting her.

Rin watched as he punched in a message— _at the parade_ —and kept an arm around him, unable to resist kissing his cheek as he sent the message. Haru didn’t complain; their teammates were also embracing one another, locked in platonic hugs and friendly kisses. Rin’s kiss was slow, touching Haru’s face for too long, but he smiled, sending the photo to Makoto as well. Rin held up his own phone to get a picture of the crowd, capturing the mass of athletes as they all finally arrived at the stadium.

As the president of the International Olympic Committee gave his speech, they firmly clasped hands. It did little to prevent their trembling. They were enraptured by the president’s words, then fell silent for the raising of the Olympic flag. The sun had already set, but the lights of the stadium focused on that flag as the Olympic anthem played. Haru touched Rin’s shoulder, lightly walking his fingers toward his neck.

“Haru,” he whispered, “what are you—”

Haru’s fingers wrapped around the ribbon and tugged the medal out from under his shirt. Rin looked down. It was so small, and so simple now. He touched it, stroking the embossed swimmer on the front, then watched as Haru pulled his own medal from its hiding spot.

“Your father would be proud,” Haru said, and Rin kneed him in the thigh.

“It’s _your_ fault I keep on crying!” he hissed, clutching the medal as the music swelled, announcing the arrival of the Olympic flame.

Rin’s face wasn’t the only one shining with tears. Yazaki stood at Haru’s other side, hugging his arm as he sobbed. Fujioka may have shed a tear, with finally witnessing the flame alight after not being able to see it in person at London.

Haru didn’t cry, but there was a stirring within his chest and pain in his arms from the two people who wouldn’t stop blubbering on him. Rin leaned on his shoulder; Yazaki’s grip would leave bruises on his skin. Haru rested his cheek on Rin’s head as the stadium roared, Olympians and spectators alike, as the torch blazed and the thirty-first Olympic games commenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/94443417213) on tumblr.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I actually cut down this chapter, too? Ugh. Chapter breaks are hard.

At four o’clock in the morning, there was still a lumpy mass of blankets on the bed when Rin emerged from the shower. When he poked it, the mass grunted.

Haru’s voice was muffled almost to incomprehension. “Why are the opening ceremonies so late?” Rin yanked the blanket off his head and Haru squinted, though there was no light in the room.

“You will _get up_ ,” Rin said, throwing his jammers at his face, “and you will _win_ that fucking medal.”

Haru hugged the jammers to his bare chest. “Don’t throw them!”

Rin threw open the shades, though there was no sun to speak of. As Haru staggered to sit up Rin knelt on the bed, straddling his thigh, and gingerly peeled the swimsuit from his fingers.

“I thought we were leaving,” Haru deadpanned, as Rin took his face in his hands. He combed Haru’s bed head with his fingers, pushing it back from his face. He lazily traced the line of his nose and his bottom lip. Haru closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall as Rin kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Ready?” Rin whispered, nipping at Haru’s neck when he inclined his head.

“Stop that,” he mumbled, and Rin kissed him one last time before sliding off the bed. Haru finally tossed off the blankets. But when he slipped into the bathroom, he poked his head out as an afterthought. “Help me shave,” he said.

Rin rolled his eyes. “You’re really annoying,” he said, but obediently followed.

 

Haru scowled when Rin suggested they jog to the stadium. “It’s a stupid idea,” he mumbled, as they stood before a fruit display in the cafeteria. He selected a banana as Rin turned away, but still caught his laugh.

Rin grabbed the banana from Haru’s hand, leaving Haru to frown at the fruit pile again until he found another that was suitable.

As they left the cafeteria Haru kept on glancing at Rin’s track jacket, the same one he wore himself. Somehow, it looked even better on Rin. The uniform of the Olympic swim team suited him. Haru felt a fluttering in his chest, a sudden onset of nerves he hadn’t felt before.

“You okay, Haru?” Rin caught the slight pause as Haru chewed the last of his banana.

“Yes.” He dropped the peel in a trash bin. “Let’s go.”

There were shuttle buses to the natatorium, but they walked across the Village instead. The pre-sunrise sky was dark but the park was lit up, spotlights illuminating the Olympic flag in its center. They both stared up as they passed, admiring the flag, but didn’t stop walking.

His body wanted to move faster, to run across the park, but Haru resisted. Still, the walk felt good. His blood began to flow; his muscles stretching after a deep sleep. Despite the ungodly hour, he felt rejuvenated when they reached the stadium—and ready for his first heat.

When they approached the locker room, the distant sound of splashing water could be heard as the four-hundred meter free heats began. Haru sat on a bench and stretched. Rin helped, pulling his arms behind him, massaging and rotating his shoulders. When no one was looking Rin would kiss him, which eased his nerves better than the walk and the stretching did.

Coach finally showed up in the lockers, donning his new black tracksuit of the Olympic coaches and carrying the clipboard.

“Do you even need that?” Rin asked, motioning to the clipboard.

“Force of habit.” He shrugged, then turned to Haru. “Ready to go, Nanase?”

Haru stood from the bench, arms hanging loosely at his sides, seemingly indifferent. But they knew him well enough—both of them—to recognize the spark in his eye. “Ready.”

 

* * *

 

Rin tried not to show how nervous he was until Haru had turned for the pool. He sat beside Coach, watching Haru mount the starting block for his first Olympic heat.

“Breathe, Matsuoka,” Coach said, and Rin nodded as the first whistle blew. He breathed in deep as Haru crouched, fingers curled around the block’s edge, silent and still as he waited.

Rin let out a slow breath.

And then, time stopped.

Rin didn’t realize he was gripping his coach’s arm, nor did Coach attempt to pry him off. The moment Haru had dived into the water, it hit him all at once—this was their shining moment, the aspiration of his childhood, the goal of his father.

This was the Olympics.

Beneath his team jacket, zipped to the neck, hung his father’s medal. He watched Haru; he watched his beautiful form glide over the water, that body he knew so well. He knew it like his own, in the way it moved, the way it reacted. To the water. To himself.

Rin whispered his name, like they were alone. Like there weren’t thousands of people watching, in the stands and on television. Like he had the night before, squeezed together on the single bed as they kissed each other to sleep. _“Haru.”_

“He’s doing all right,” Coach said, steadily watching the pool.

 _He’s doing beautifully_ , Rin thought, as Haru turned again, a split second before the lead. There, under the spotlights, in the Olympic stadium. Rin’s chest was on fire; he thought his heart would burst from his skin.

“Hey, Matsuoka.” Coach pried Rin’s fingers off his arm. “Let up.”

It took all Rin’s composure not to run for him when Haru climbed from the pool. Haru was exhausted—his arms trembled as he pulled himself from the pool, and he rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He was ranked second, but it was early; there were still four other heats. Coach stood as Haru approached but Rin impatiently waited, tapping his toes, watching them whisper to each other. The moment Haru turned to him, though, Rin bolted up from his seat.

“What’s it like?” he asked, squeezing around Haru’s shoulders.

He could feel Haru’s smile against his cheek. “It’s good,” he replied, leaning into him. “You’ll love it.”

 

* * *

 

The finals weren’t until late afternoon, so they returned to the room for a nap.

While Haru slept the morning away Rin snuck out to get lunch, grabbing sandwiches and bottled water from the cafeteria. Haru was still dozing when he returned but Rin sat on the bed, watching, combing Haru’s hair with his fingers. He was muttering in his sleep, something about swimming, and Rin definitely heard his name. Carefully, Rin slid his laptop from the bedside table and opened to their blog.

The Olympics had just started, and already the hits to the blog had skyrocketed. He couldn’t keep up with the sheer number of comments, scrolling through the endless list of praise and congratulations from that morning alone. He wanted to look for familiar names—his mother commented on every single one of their posts—but opened a new page instead.

 

> _Saturday, August 6_
> 
> _It’s started!_
> 
> _Haru’s in the final for the 400m free! The heats are early in the morning, so he’s resting now. I_ could _share a photo of him sleeping, but that’s a sight only I’m allowed to see :) (Trust me, it’s really cute.)_
> 
> _I’m going crazy not swimming. I’m not in the pool until Monday, but it’s okay because I get to watch Haru. Coach lets me sit with him so I have front-row seats. Look for me on camera!_
> 
> _I still can’t believe we’re here. This is more than a dream come true. I thank all of you for your support, and for believing in us. I’m winning the gold not just for myself but for my father, and Haru, and all of you._
> 
> _Thank you._
> 
> _Rin Matsuoka_

 

He squirmed when an arm snaked around his leg, a hand resting high on his inner thigh. Haru propped his chin on Rin’s leg and stared bleary-eyed at the laptop. “Romantic,” he mumbled.

“Shut up.” Rin smiled and ruffled his hair. “You wanna eat something? The cafeteria didn’t have mackerel, but I got us roast beef sandwiches.”

He flopped his head to Rin’s thigh. “That’s not the same at all.”

Rin grabbed the bag from the nightstand, then dropped a sandwich to the bed. “You need the carbs.” Haru didn’t argue, and he wasn’t visibly thrilled about the weird foreign sandwich, but inhaled it in his hunger anyway.

 

* * *

 

Rin thought he knew Haru pretty well. He’d grown to recognize the subtle difference in his pouts, the dry humor behind his deadpan tone, the flash of his eyes that meant he’d soon be swimming. But now, he could read nothing. Haru was silent as they walked to the natatorium for the final. He didn’t speak; he didn’t hold Rin’s hand. Rin could only tell that the gears of his mind were working, but the topic of his thoughts was a complete unknown. He hardly acknowledged Rin’s presence until they reached the stadium, pausing before they stepped into the locker room.

He grasped Rin’s hand and quickly kissed him, once for good luck. His gaze bored into his very soul, and then he settled into an easy smile.

Rin kissed him again before they went inside.

And again before they left the locker room.

Rin sat beside Coach at poolside again, listening to Haru’s name over the announcements, satisfied with the way Haru raised a single hand in recognition.

“Matsuoka,” Coach muttered, elbowing his ribs. Rin tore his gaze from Haru to see the cameras right in front of them, waiting for their greeting. He couldn’t know what the commentators were saying about his presence beside their coach, so he did the one thing he knew best—he smiled wide and frantically waved.

But the ref’s whistle snapped his attention back to the pool.

He caught the tail end of Haru’s dive, the flash of his feet before they disappeared. He gripped the seat of his chair as he watched, eye flicking to the other lanes before always, always, coming back to Haru.

 _His first Olympic final_ , he thought, leaning forward so far he risked falling from his chair.

He hoped everyone at home was watching. He hoped his mother’s house was still open to everyone, picturing them crowded around the living room television. For a moment, he wished he was there with them—cheering Haru on, watching the action up-close with the aid of the cameras. Rin caught glimpses of him there, in person, not even able to tell who was leading. Judging by Coach’s cool expression he didn’t know, either. But they watched.

Swim, turn.

Swim, turn.

Rin couldn’t help it—he leaped up on the last leg, trying to gauge who was leading. It was close. Many had fallen behind but Haru was up there, pushing himself, keeping up. But in the last seconds, Rin knew. He saw the Korean swimmer pull ahead; he saw the American slap the wall. And then he saw Haru, who rested both arms on the pool’s edge, looking at him before checking the results.

Rin sat back in his chair, panting like he’d just swam four hundred meters himself.

“Fourth isn’t so bad,” Coach said.

Rin nodded. It was close—he was only three-tenths of a second behind the bronze medalist. But as Haru came over to talk to Coach, he didn’t look disappointed. He talked with his coach, silently nodding, the cameras still on him. But then, he sought Rin—smiling now, waiting for him, opening his arms for his embrace.

“You were great,” Rin said, breathing in his chlorine-soaked skin.

“I’ll win the next one,” Haru said.

He smirked against Haru’s shoulder. “I know you will, baby.” Rin wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but the cameras were still hovering. Instead he buried his face in Haru’s shoulder, hiding his smile from the world.

That smile, pressed to Haru’s skin, was intended only for him.

They wouldn’t stay out late that night; Haru had another heat in the morning. But they grabbed their relay teammates and went for an early dinner at the pub, celebrating his near-victory. Rin watched everyone who passed their table, picking out those he recognized. There were familiar faces from other championship meets, the same swimmers they’d competed against in the past. They’d won against some, and lost to others, but here the slate was wiped clean. Here was where it mattered.

Yazaki couldn’t understand why they were celebrating when Haru hadn’t even won a medal. But they couldn’t explain—swimming in that pool was more than the medal, more than the thrill of victory.

“We’re here,” Rin said, lifting his pineapple juice.

Yazaki shook his head. “You two are so weird.”

Fujioka lifted his glass of water to clink glasses with them.

 

* * *

 

Sunday went by in a flash. Haru qualified for the two-hundred meter free and Fujioka for the one-hundred meter back, both advancing to the finals. They were all on edge, with their final races the following day, and finally— _finally—_ Rin would get in the water himself.

When they returned to the room that night, Haru showered first. Rin flopped to the bed, arms spread out, his father’s medal lying on the bed beside him. He’d been wearing it all week. He listened to the trickle of the showerhead and closed his eyes, counting down the minutes until morning.

Two-hundred meter fly. His first Olympic heat.

Haru was silent as he emerged from the shower, moving around the room as he dressed. Rin was happy just to watch. He watched Haru pull on his dumb fish-patterned underwear, admiring how nicely it fit his butt. He watched him open a drawer, staring at the clothes folded inside, pursing his lips as he picked up a pair of sleep shorts.

“Don’t bother,” Rin said, and Haru eyed him over his shoulder. He dropped the shorts back into the drawer as he closed it.

“Go shower,” Haru said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You have to get up early.”

“Oh yeah? What for?” He arched up to meet Haru’s lips. He loved the feel of those lips but loved even more when Haru tried not to smile, trying to focus on kissing instead. And Haru didn’t get angry when Rin broke away in a fit of giggles. He’d been good about containing his mirth in public, but now tears were clinging to his lashes as he laughed.

Haru picked the child’s relay medal up off the bed, holding it high before draping it around Rin’s neck. Rin’s giggles faded as he looked at the small medal, gently tracing its perimeter before lifting it to his lips. Haru tilted Rin’s chin up, kissing the tears from his eyes before working down to his mouth.

“I have to shower,” Rin murmured, as Haru pushed him down to the bed.

 

It was a wonder he’d slept at all. Haru was out of bed first, for once; Rin woke but didn’t yet open his eyes, listening to him get ready instead. He didn’t have to see Haru to know his routine—he knew where he was headed in the room, and for what purpose. He knew that he’d put on his jammers, even though he wasn’t swimming until later in the afternoon.

When Haru didn’t cross the room again, Rin opened one eye. He was standing by the window, though the sky was still dark, staring at a child-sized medal clutched in both hands. Rin’s was on his bedside table, so the one Haru held was Makoto’s. Haru gripped the medal tighter before draping it around his neck.

“Where’s my good luck kiss?” Rin asked.

He didn’t seem surprised that Rin was awake as he perched on the edge of the bed. Rin was keenly aware that his mouth had the bitter taste of morning, and Haru’s tasted like mint toothpaste, but Haru eagerly kissed him anyway.

“You don’t need luck,” Haru said.

 

It was five thirty in the morning. Five thirty, and Rin was standing at poolside, waving to the crowd. He’d already been stopped by an interviewer, asking if he was excited. (“Excited doesn’t begin to describe it!”) It was five thirty in the morning but Rin had never felt so awake.

He peered over his shoulder at Haru and the coach. They both nodded to him. Haru was sitting up straight, rubbing his chest, and Rin knew the small medal was there beneath his jacket. Coach didn’t display any outward signs of nerves or excitement, but it was his stillness alone that gave him away.

On the first whistle, Rin’s legs shook as he stepped onto the starting block. He had trouble grasping the edge of the block, unable to stop his hands from trembling. He closed his eyes for only a moment, taking in the scent of the pool and the sudden silence of the crowd.

And then, he dived.

_I’m swimming at the Olympics._

Of all things, he thought of Haru’s stupid elementary school essay. _The water is alive_. He got it. He _felt_ it. Rin had always felt a connection to the water, but here it was even stronger. He knew it like Haru did, knew it better than his own body.

It was overwhelming. It was like no one else was in that pool; he felt only the water move around him, like the water itself was helping him to swim faster. Distantly he heard the crowd, cheering like it was only for him. He couldn’t see Haru—he could see only the burst of water in front of him—but he knew he was there.

And his father.

Rin didn’t consider that it was stupid, because in that moment it made perfect sense. His father was there, waiting for him at the end. Cheering the loudest. Throwing an arm around unsuspecting Haru’s shoulders as they cheered together, shouting his name until their throats were raw.

Two minutes went by like nothing. He didn’t want to stop, but at the same time couldn’t wait to get to the end. Rin gasped as he came up for air, ripping off his goggles to check the results.

His first thought was surprise, because he didn’t want to cry. The water dripped down his cheeks like tears, but they weren’t tears. He pushed back his hair to look again, seeing his name in English displayed at the top of the board. Distantly, someone was making an announcement over the PA system. His own name in a foreign accent, followed by those who had finished after him.

His name. It had been mentioned first.

The swimmer beside him held up a hand for a high-five. Rin accepted it, staring in awe as their hands clapped together, watching the other guy grin.

It was only a heat. But he’d surpassed his personal best, finishing long before the others. Someone helped him out of the pool—he wasn’t certain whose hand he clasped—and he walked on trembling legs away from the pool, away from his life force.

But toward his coach, and toward his fiancé.

The embrace shared with Haru was premature, he knew— _it’s only a heat_ , he thought—but it suited him, holding on tight as he dripped with pool water.

“You’ll win,” Haru whispered, so only Rin could hear.

Rin wasn’t as certain, as they watched the other heats. He knew his personal best, and there were several swimmers who surpassed it, though they were all within nanoseconds of each other. Coach sat with them, scribbling times on the clipboard, crossing out names and rearranging who he thought would go to the semifinals.

And by the semifinals that afternoon, Rin was a nervous wreck. While his name was ranked with more well-known swimmers, he still twitched with anticipation. And it drove him crazy that Haru wasn’t sitting with Coach when he came out. He was still behind the scenes, mentally preparing for the two-hundred meter free. Rin was torn. As he peeled off his jacket and adjusted his goggles, he wanted to be in that pool. But he also wanted to be sitting beside Haru, holding his hand, not speaking.

 _Haru will be fine_ , he thought, as he mounted the starting block. _This is your time to shine, Matsuoka._

And he _shone_ , once he hit the water. It had been a perfect dive and a smooth kick; he came up _smiling_ , knowing that initial push had given him a good lead. He tried not to focus on his competitors too much, remembering instead everything that had come to him during the heat. And though his training had been focused mostly on the individual events, it was that medley at the end of the week he was swimming toward. Remembering how Haru looked diving, the perfect line of his body in those seconds before he disappeared into the water.

Haru wasn’t standing there in that moment, but Rin imagined he was. And Haru never shouted for him like the other teammates, but his concentrated stare was better than if he’d shouted his voice raw.

When Rin smacked the wall he immediately looked up to the results board. He was partly surprised to see his name up there—he’d advanced to the finals—but also not surprised at all, because it wasn’t merely his skill and training that had brought him that far.

He kissed his palm and extended it toward the camera, hoping he watched from where he was waiting.

 

* * *

 

Rin was more nervous for Haru’s final than he’d been for his own race.

He sat beside Coach, closing his eyes to the buzz of the crowd. They waited beside the door Haru would emerge from, watching the other swimmers take the field, the cheers of the crowd swelling with each name that was announced.

 _“In lane three,”_ the announcer called, and Rin opened his eyes, _“the Japan Masters Swimming Championships gold medalist, representing Japan, Haruka Nanase.”_

Haru didn’t even look nervous as he stepped from his door, lifting his head to the cheering stands. Despite his swim cap and goggles already in place, Rin caught his look of overconfidence, the little smirk at the corner of his lips. He seemed to have channeled a variant of his soon-to-be husband’s personality—a genuine wave to the four corners of the audience, then a smile as he casually shed his team jacket. He didn’t even wear a shirt beneath it.

“What’s gotten into _him_?” Coach muttered, but Rin didn’t dare speak. He sat up straight, watching him mount the block, catching Haru’s quick glance over his shoulder.

_“Take your mark.”_

Rin beamed, gripping his chair, and cheered before Haru even hit the water.

_The two-hundred meter free._

He couldn’t help it—as Haru began to swim Rin was standing, trying for a better view of the pool. For a moment he wished he was in the stands instead, watching overhead. The race was already so close; Rin’s limbs were shaking with nerves.

“Sit down, Matsuoka,” Coach said, tugging on his sleeve.

He couldn’t _see_ as well sitting down, but he complied. Haru was _flying_. Rin sat up straighter on the last leg, trying to keep his eye on both Haru and his competitors. He wanted to know first-hand if he’d won. He wanted to know even before the audience. He wanted to know before everyone.

The announcer called Haru’s name at the race’s conclusion, but it hadn’t been first. Rin’s head was buzzing; he couldn’t focus on the pool. He couldn’t see Haru. Rin stood again, spying Haru in the water. Haru, floating there, staring up at the bustle of Japanese spectators. He panted, shoulders heaving, then raised one arm to wave as he smiled.

Rin looked up at the final times.

“Second,” he whispered, clutching his chest, swallowing the swell in his throat. “Haru . . .”

Rin could only watch Haru get out of the pool, and then the refs buzzed around him before he was ushered back behind his door. It took all Rin’s composure not to follow, anxiously waiting for Coach’s signal. He burned with each second he wasn’t standing at Haru’s side.

“Let’s go,” Coach said, nearly shoving Rin off his chair.

He couldn’t get in that room fast enough—Haru was sitting on a bench, fists clenched on his knees, staring wide-eyed at the floor. He couldn’t even move when Rin hugged him, the shock freezing him to his spot.

It wasn’t until Rin whispered his name that he looked up, and then Rin froze, too—the water pooling in Haru’s eyes, a single drop streaking down his cheek. He swiped it away, staring at Rin like the tear had never happened.

Coach clapped Haru on the back. “Let’s go, Nanase. Ready to accept your silver medal?”

Rin swallowed a sob, trying to force the tears back down. But when Haru stood he fell into Rin’s arms, nearly toppling them back into the wall. Rin’s eyes widened as Haru gripped the back of his jacket.

“You’ve got two minutes,” Coach said, waving over his shoulder as he snuck out through the back door.

“Kiss me, you idiot,” Haru said, and Rin crushed their lips together.

_Ready to accept your silver medal?_

The words swam through Rin’s head as Haru kissed him, as Haru’s tears—not his own—slipped between their lips. Distantly, they heard the announcer at poolside, preparing to begin. _Welcome to the victory ceremony for the two-hundred meter freestyle . . ._

Rin broke the kiss with a laugh, and Haru wiped his tears from Rin’s face. He shook his head, swatting Haru’s hand away, wanting Haru’s tear tracks on his cheeks. Haru kissed him one more time, their lips still connected as he was stepping backward toward the door.

Rin made it to the stands just in time, pushing through the crowd to get to the front. It helped that he was surrounded by his countrymen and fellow athletes; he found Fujioka and Yazaki, squeezing beside them in the front row as they exchanged high-fives.

“Here they come!” Yazaki cried, pointing to the set of double doors that had just opened.

It was like Haru knew exactly where they’d be sitting—perhaps he did—as he lifted his head to the Japanese crowd, a sudden burst of applause and the waving of tiny flags. Rin leaped to his feet, wilding waving both arms, throwing kisses toward the pool. He knew the cameras weren’t going to miss him, so he played it up. But he didn’t have to fake his enthusiasm—he couldn’t stop smiling as Haru stood behind the winner’s podium, and smiled even wider when Haru looked straight at him.

 _I love you_ , Rin mouthed, hoping he could see.

Haru kissed his fingers, thought he didn’t pretend to throw it into the stands. He clenched his fist, holding it over his heart, and Rin noticed right away the glint of his promise ring. He had no idea when he’d had the chance to put it on again.

The crowd still cheered. The Olympic anthem played and Haru kept that fist over his heart, looking around the room. Looking at the pool. And when the music faded, he watched in awe as the bronze medalist accepted his proof of victory.

 _“The silver medalist,”_ the announcer called, and Rin leaned over the banister, _“representing Japan, Haruka Nanase!”_

Haru slowly stepped onto the winner’s podium. He looked beautiful, with the shine of his skin and his hair under the spotlight. It was surreal—a slight wave of acknowledgement, then the bow of his head as the medal was draped around his neck. The glint of silver on his chest, sparkling in the light as Haru held it up, that small smile as he posed for countless photos.

When the gold medalist was announced, Haru hadn’t released the medal. Rin wondered what it felt like. It looked heavy, oversized. He’d never seen one in person. Haru turned to the Japanese crowd, who continued to wave at him, and though he appeared to acknowledge them all, Rin knew exactly where his eyes were locked.

 _For you_ , Haru mouthed, then kissed the medallion, and Rin hated how easily Haru could make him cry.

 

There were photos to be taken. Interviews to be made. Fujioka disappeared for the one-hundred meter back final, and Yazaki stayed to watch. Rin could get through the crowd easily enough, sneaking through the athlete’s section where the public wasn’t permitted. It wasn’t hard to find Haru, as he was surrounded by the press. He blinked against the umpteenth camera flash, his hand trembling from holding his medal up for so long.

“Rin Matsuoka!” Someone he didn’t know was calling his name. A reporter. He whipped around to find a camera and microphone in his face. “Are you disappointed that your boyfriend didn’t win gold?”

“He’s my fiancé,” he said automatically. “And I’ve never been more proud of him.”

He grinned, waving to the camera as he turned around, determined to get closer to Haru. But it wasn’t difficult—Haru inclined his head when he spotted Rin, and the crowd parted like the sea. It was a flurry of flashes and applause as Rin rushed to him, throwing his arms around Haru, the applause growing louder as they stumbled into each other.

“I love you so much,” Rin whispered low in his ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

They took a few photos but Rin held a hand up, a silent request to stop. “Let’s wait until I win, too, all right?” The interviewers and photographers laughed, getting one last shot of Japan’s golden boys before Coach pushed through the crowd to usher them out. He held the door open to the locker room as Rin and Haru squeezed through the crowd to get in.

“You’d be standing there all day,” Coach said, leaning against the door to close it. “They _love_ you.”

“What’s not to love?” Rin said, throwing an arm around Haru’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. Haru only smiled down at his silver medal.

 

> _Monday, August 8_
> 
> _The only pictures we have from today are on the Olympics website, and you’ve probably seen those already. So Rin said we should take one ourselves, which you can see below. He says it’s a miracle that I’m smiling for the picture, but he’s being an idiot._
> 
> _A lot of people asked if I’m disappointed that I didn’t win gold. I’m not. I’m here to swim. It means a lot being at the Olympics, and this medal means a lot even if it’s not gold._
> 
> _Don’t miss Rin’s 200m fly tomorrow. He’s already planning photos together with our medals._
> 
> _Haruka Nanase_

> _Monday, August 8_
> 
> _Don’t listen to Haru. He’s ecstatic. You can’t tell, though, because he doesn’t smile a lot. But if you look at that picture, you can see his smile is just a little bigger than usual. Isn’t it adorable?_
> 
> _My fiancé, the Olympic silver medalist._
> 
> _Rin Matsuoka_

They had a celebratory dinner with Fujioka, who’d won bronze in his event. They clinked glasses—Fujioka and Yazaki had wine, while Rin and Haru lifted their water glasses.

The wine bottle chilled in a cooler in the center of the table, which Yazaki nudged toward Rin. “Have a little,” he said, motioning to Rin’s empty wine glass. He didn’t bother offering to Haru, who was already protectively holding his glass of water.

“He’s not allowed to drink,” Haru said, expressionless.

“That was one time!” Rin cried.

But Yazaki chuckled, sliding the cooler back toward himself. “Good call, Haru.”

They all eyed up their plates when the waiter arrived, checking out the other’s seafood dinners as well. It felt like an age since any of them had an extravagant meal, one that wasn’t properly portioned or fortified to their individual nutritional needs.

“I didn’t know they had _mackerel_ here,” Rin said, glaring at Haru’s plate.

“You can get anything,” he replied, his fingers awkwardly wrapped around his fork. Rin didn’t have the heart to correct him.

Rin wanted more than anything to continue celebrating Haru’s victory, but the approach of his own race was in the back of his mind. He’d seen the roster at the end of the semifinals, and he was up against some tough competition. And though he’d been first in his own heat, some of the others had far surpassed his time.

“Phelps is in the finals,” Rin said suddenly, mentally picturing the two-hundred meter fly roster.

“So?” Haru picked off another piece of mackerel. “We’ve been training longer.”

“He has twenty-two fucking gold medals!”

Fujioka choked down a laugh, though Yazaki wasn’t as successful—the other tables glared when he snorted, nearly tipping over his wine glass and fumbling his silverware.

But Haru only shrugged, slowly chewing his fish before swallowing. “You’re still better.”

Rin took his hand, kissing his palm before setting it back down on the table. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“You guys should come out tonight,” Yazaki said, his mouth full of stuffed flounder. “We’re gonna see if Kyoshi’s medal gets us into any good parties.”

Rin shook his head. “We’re swimming tomorrow. But don’t get wasted—the relay’s on Friday.”

“Nah, it’s cool!” Yazaki replied. He held up his wine glass. “This is it, promise.”

Fujioka’s medal still hung around his neck and he would touch it on occasion, as if confirming it was real. Haru, too, wore his, and Rin glanced at it more often than Haru did.

“The first of many victories,” Fujioka said, tipping his wine glass to them across the table.

“For the team,” Rin said, and they all clinked glasses again.

 

* * *

 

The emails and text messages didn’t come until later that night. It was the early hours of morning in Japan, and they must have all been watching the time delay at the same time.

 _Congratulations, Haru!!_ Makoto wrote.

_You rock, Haru-nii!_

_HARU-CHAAAAN WOOT WOOT_

Haru’s laugh was a rare sound, something even Rin didn’t have the pleasure of hearing often. But he beamed with each new message, sitting cross-legged on the bed as he stared at his phone, Rin’s head in his lap.

 _We’re so proud of you_ , Haru’s mother said.

Rin stared at the underside of Haru’s chin, fascinated by the way his skin shifted around his smile. He reached up to gently stroke his jaw.

_A beautiful finish, Haruka-senpai!_

_Congratulations! That’s my son-in-law!_

“Son-in-law?” Haru murmured.

Rin plucked the phone from his fingers to read his mother’s message. He smiled, ignoring the buzzing phone in his own pocket. Instead he lifted Haru’s shirt to kiss his stomach, crawling his fingers up to grasp the medal around his neck. Haru surprised him by sliding down to the bed, Rin’s head now rested on his chest.

“You’re gonna do it again?” Rin asked. Another heat in the early morning, another race Haru had to prepare for.

“Yes,” he replied. While his face betrayed little, Rin could feel the buzzing of his nerves. Haru was filled with pride and energy, his body twitching with each of Rin’s touches. Rin slipped a hand beneath his shirt to feel the sudden ripple of Haru’s skin, the muscles he’d helped to define, the years of training that had brought them to that country, that room, and that medal around his neck. He pushed Haru’s shirt up farther, bunched around his chest, and Haru sucked in a breath as the cool medal touched his bare skin.

They both grunted when there was a knock on the door.

Rin stole one last kiss before getting up, but stared at Haru’s exposed skin as he lay across the bed—his shorts low on his hips, the firm plane of his abs. Haru smirked and tugged down his shirt as Rin opened the door.

“Kyoshi?”

Haru sat up, peering at the open doorway as Fujioka stared at them, looking strangely relieved. “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

“No, we’re . . . getting ready for bed,” Rin replied. “What’s going on?”

He sighed. “Can I stay here tonight? Yazaki . . . has company.” Rin raised an eyebrow as Fujioka shoved his hands into his pockets. “The medal _does_ get you into some good parties.”

“Really?” Rin glanced over his shoulder, where Haru now sat up on the bed.

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

But Fujioka still hesitated, insisting he didn’t want to intrude, but was pacified when they both assured him it was fine. “Look, we even have a spare bed,” Rin said. “Unless that’s weird, then—”

“No,” Fujioka cut him off, gratefully accepting a pair of pajamas from Haru. “I appreciate it.”

They didn’t know a lot about their backstroke swimmer. He mostly kept to himself, but since standing on the winner’s podium he’d opened up a little. To have not qualified for the previous Olympics, and then trained hard enough to win at this one, no explanation was needed. He seemed more relaxed with the medal around his neck. Rin was relieved to see his roommate hadn’t kept it for the night.

Fujioka sat on the corner of the spare bed, removing his shoes and socks. Rin fussed to make sure he was comfortable, that he had enough pillows, if he needed anything to help him sleep. Fujioka assured him he was fine, a small smile on his lips when he caught Haru watching.

“What is it?” Haru asked.

Haru was perched on the corner of his own bed, having finally removed his medal to sleep. The air of the room was comfortable and calm, besides Rin’s bustling, but even that died down as he set a water bottle on the bedside table and got into bed himself.

“I’ve never seen you at home,” Fujioka said, as he crawled beneath the blanket. “You’re really . . . domestic.”

“We’re getting married,” Rin said, like the entire swim team didn’t already know. “Come visit Iwatobi sometime.” Haru nodded in agreement as he pulled the blanket up over them.

Fujioka smiled. “I will.”

 

* * *

 

They’d fallen asleep right away. Fujioka was still lightly snoring when they woke the next morning, and they silently dressed without waking him. Rin scribbled a note that they’d left, leaving it on the bedside table before they crept out of the room.

“I wonder what she looked like,” Rin said, as they walked across the lawn for the stadium.

“Who?”

“Toru’s _company_ , Haru. Keep up.”

Haru grunted. “Cut that out.”

But Rin continued to tease him and make stupid jokes, and Haru merely accepted it. He knew it was Rin’s own way of dealing with his anxiety—this would be Haru’s third heat; he was already a seasoned Olympian. That afternoon, Rin would go for his first medal. The competition was stiff, but Haru hadn’t been lying at dinner—he _did_ believe Rin was better than them all. He pecked Rin’s lips before they stepped into the natatorium, leaving him at poolside with a permanent blush across his cheeks.

After trying for the four-hundred, and winning the two-hundred, the one-hundred meter free was a cinch. No one, least of all Haru, was surprised he’d made it to the semifinals. And when his name was called for the semifinals that afternoon, they mentioned not his victory at Japan’s championships, but his Olympic silver medal. _“Yesterday, he finished second in the two-hundred meter free. Will it be enough to win the gold in the one-hundred meter?”_

 _Yes_ , Haru thought as he swam, finishing first in the semifinals. When he climbed from the pool he shook out his wet hair, much to the delight of his fans.

 _Fans_. It was weird to think about, but yes, there were people who followed him. They followed both him and Rin, calling them “cute” and “talented” and having as much faith in them as the people they’d known their whole lives. Haru never told Rin how much he searched the Internet for them, but he’d seen it all. He didn’t think he’d like the attention, but the Internet was all right. Their fans could boast over them without having to face them, behind the anonymity of a computer. But it was still weird that strangers thought about him at all, that he’d become a household name around the world.

_Haruka Nanase, Olympic silver medalist._

When he sat beside Coach before the start of the two-hundred meter fly, he finally understood the plethora of Rin’s emotions the day before. The excitement, the fear, the rush of pride. Haru sat on his hands, watching each of the swimmers come from behind their doors; he stared at the American far too long, knowing his time was just a hair faster than Rin’s.

_“In lane six, the Japan Masters Swimming Championships gold medalist, representing Japan, Rin Matsuoka.”_

Rin had both arms in the air before he’d even cleared the door, his smile shining under the lights, waving enthusiastically to the crowd. When he approached his lane he turned to Haru, and though he was wearing goggles the twitch of his cheek proved that he winked. Haru touched his chest, where they both knew his medals were hanging beneath his jacket—both his, and Makoto’s.

Haru’s heart hadn’t pounded so badly for his _own_ races. Rin was taking off his jacket now, carefully folding it before setting it down. And Haru’s heart hitched again when Rin pulled off his T-shirt—he could swear the crowd’s applause swelled when he stood at poolside shirtless, grinning as he dropped it into the basket.

 _So distracting_ , Haru thought, admiring Rin’s sculpted abs. There were few swimmers who had a body like that—most were lean, light in the water, but Rin was solid. He stretched his arms back, which accentuated his pecs; Haru’s gaze swept down his body, admiring the black-and-red jammers that nicely fit around his thighs and butt. He thought of the fan sites he’d found for them—Rin had more than he did—and the girls who would outwardly swoon or complain that he was gay. He suddenly thought of their advertisement at the Iwatobi train station, and the lipstick smear he’d wiped off Rin’s cheek. Haru couldn’t help but smile.

 _His fiancé is lucky_ , he thought, as the swimmers stepped onto the starting blocks.

And Rin had a nice face, too, especially when it was focused in concentration. Even from a distance Haru could see the set of his jaw, and he knew how steadily Rin stared at the water waiting for the start.

He knew Rin. The pounding of his heart wasn’t his own; he’d absorbed Rin’s nerves, leaving him to focus only on swimming.

“Shit,” Coach murmured, as they dived into the water, “look at him go.”

Haru was always transfixed by the way Rin swam. Rin never knew—it was the only time he _couldn’t_ watch Haru, when he was bolting across the pool. How intently he watched, like no one else was there. His awed expression every time Rin hit the water. He’d seen Rin swim so many times before, but each lap was a new experience. Each lap reminded Haru how much he wanted him to win, and how much he loved him, though neither point was anything Haru could ever forget.

Rin was leading, but it was a tight race. Phelps would pull ahead of him, but Rin would make it up on the turn. And though Haru couldn’t see Rin in the moments immediately following his turn, he knew exactly how he kicked beneath the water, pushing his hips to propel himself forward. Swimming faster. Taking great, gasping breaths on each stroke.

 _Rin’s first Olympic race_ , Haru thought, as they sprang into the last leg. A chill spread over his body, remembering the tiny relay medal tucked away in Rin’s swim bag. _This is for you_. Haru lifted his head to the sky as Rin reached for the wall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/95023596763) on tumblr.)


	17. Chapter 17

Rin was positively _glowing_. And though he was soaking wet, Haru knew which drops on his cheeks were tears despite his desperate attempt to hold them back. He turned to the lane beside him, to the swimmer who was waving at the cameras. Then his competitor slid over to give Rin a high-five, exchanging some words Haru frustratingly couldn't hear. He knew there would be countless photos of that exchange on every sports channel and website by the time they returned to the room that night. Rin Matsuoka, almost beating Michael Phelps for the gold in his first Olympic race. The two of them exchanging their congratulations before climbing from the pool.

Haru knew how it worked—he waited until the swimmers had all disappeared before he and Coach headed for the back room. And there Rin was waiting for them, standing in the middle of the room, crying his eyes out. Coach said nothing, only clapping Rin on the shoulder as he passed, heading for the hallway to wait for the start of the victory ceremony.

Haru closed his eyes to Rin’s trembling touch, to those toned arms around his shoulders, that face pressed to his neck as he cried. That hug was so comfortable, with the adoring sound of Rin’s sobbing, so happy that he couldn’t even speak.

Haru kissed his temple. They stood together in silence, Haru pulling him closer, waiting until the very last moment to leave for the ceremony.

“Go,” Haru said, holding Rin’s shoulders, staring into his tear-filled eyes. “Get your medal.”

 

As Haru sat in the stands with their team, he smiled when Rin walked to the podium sniffling. And when the medal was draped around his neck he only cried harder, gripping to the ribbon as he covered his mouth with the back of his other hand. His chest heaved as he tried to calm down for photographs, and he lifted his head in pride when the Olympic anthem played. The gold medalist laughed as he squeezed Rin’s shoulder, when his tears finally slowed to a trickle.

Haru needed to be alone with him in their room. But it was more photographs, more interviews, this time focused on Rin. He talked a lot about his father, dedicating his medal to him in every interview. He said hello his mother and Gou, and Haru could already imagine the ear-piercing squeal when they saw the interview. With the time difference, it would be several hours until they watched the race on a time delay.

Rin was still shaking when they finally reunited, when he could hug Haru again. And though the hall was filled with cameras they clung to each other; Haru could feel Rin’s pounding heart through his own skin. They held hands as they maneuvered through the crowded stadium, a gesture they told themselves was only so they wouldn’t lose each other amongst the throng of people. But even when they crossed the lawn to their dormitory, they didn’t let go. Rin held one trembling hand to his medal, the other clasped firmly around Haru’s.

Haru had expected more tears when they returned to the room. But Rin only tossed his jacket to the armchair, silently, and then sat on the corner of the bed. He stared at the medal that rested on the curve of his stomach. He watched Haru move to his swim bag, digging through for what he knew he sought—he pulled out his father’s medal, so small now, and draped it, too, around Rin’s neck. It sat too high on his chest, not even reaching the top of the Olympic medal. Rin swallowed hard as Haru sat behind him, hugging him, resting his cheek between his shoulder blades.

Then, he began to kiss him. Slow, careful kisses across Rin’s back, lips touching each vertebra on the way down, and then back up. He felt the shiver up Rin’s spine, the pulse of his heart through his back.

“Do that again,” Rin whispered.

And he did, trailing a hand down his back before kissing it again, resting his hands on Rin’s hips. Rin let out a slow breath as Haru kissed each groove of his spine, working his way back up to the nap of his neck. Then, Haru wrapped his arms around him, encasing Rin’s body within his own.

“This is the best day of my life,” Rin murmured, as Haru reached for both his hands.

“It’s not over yet,” he said, pulling Rin backward, the both of them falling to the bed.

Rin crawled on top, hungry for the press of their lips. As he leaned over, the Olympic medal rested on Haru’s chest. When Rin lay on top of him, the medal pressed between them. Haru enjoyed feeling the cool metal, more so when his own shirt was discarded, too, Rin’s victory the only thing between them. But Haru couldn’t hide his surprise when Rin tugged at his pants, smirking as his underwear went as well.

“Rin . . . ?” Haru gasped when Rin straddled him, leaning back against his groin. “We still have to swim . . .”

“ _You_ have to swim,” he said, kissing Haru’s chest. “But be careful, all right?”

They’d sworn off sex until the week’s conclusion, until after the medley relay. And though Rin wasn’t swimming the following day, Haru was still wary. Rin slid off his underwear, leaving them both blissfully naked. Rin’s medals brushed his chest as he leaned in for another kiss; Haru reached around him, feeling his contented sigh.

“If it’s too much,” Haru said between kisses, “tell me.”

Rin nodded but kissed him harder, his hips already grinding.

Haru could feel Rin’s stomach growling, having eaten little after his event, but still he urged Haru to touch him, arching his neck back when those fingers touched his skin. Despite Haru’s reservations he _needed_ to feel Rin, burning with having watched him in the pool. He was even more beautiful up close, his biceps bulging as he held to Haru’s arms, the medals glinting on his chest. And when he leaned back, positioning himself over Haru, it felt like ages since they’d made love. Haru closed his eyes, his hands wandering Rin’s arms and stomach, pressing hard enough to his Olympic medal to leave an imprint on his skin.

“Haru, I . . .”

He felt the tremble of Rin’s body as he held himself up, the overextertion of his swimming, of his victory. A simple motion that had never bothered him before.

“Wait,” Haru said, gently pushing him to the bed. Rin understood without explanation, like they shared one mind, one soul. Rin eased back, allowing Haru to kiss down his body instead, forfeiting their lovemaking for the sake of the forthcoming relay.

Outside the room, they heard the heavy footsteps of athletes running up and down the halls. The swimming events must have finally concluded for the day; men shouted to each other and some girls were chattering. Rin threw a forearm across his mouth as Haru kissed between his legs, winding his tongue around Rin’s erection before gently sucking him. The television next door was blaring with Olympics news and they were reminded how thin the walls were, how they heard everything on the other side. Rin gripped to Haru’s shoulder, swallowing back his moans.

Haru hated to see Rin cry. Over the years he’d learned to interpret those tears, but he still felt that sense of panic when his eyes welled up. Today, they were tears of joy and disbelief. They were tears of happiness dripping onto the sheets. But Haru _wanted_ those tears, to feel the release of Rin’s joy, like he could begin to understand everything that swelled within Rin just from those small drops of his water.

Rin’s release was premature, the overstimulation of Rio, of victory, of his fiancé. Haru kissed his stomach and rested his head against it. “My husband,” he murmured, touching the medal he shared Rin’s skin space with.

“Soon,” Rin replied, grasping his hand.

 

They should’ve been exhausted. But come that night they were set to burst, restless and overexcited and absolutely starving. While they were heading to the cafeteria—it took little convincing for Haru to wear his medal, too—the influx of texts and emails from Japan had begun. Rin received a phone call, too, before they reached the building, from his mother.

“This is definitely a long-distance call, Ma,” he said, putting her on speakerphone so Haru could hear.

“As if I wouldn’t call my Olympic medalist!” Haru rubbed his ear when she screeched. “I can hardly believe it!”

“Me too, Mom.” Haru lightly kissing his cheek as Rin smiled down at the phone.

“Your father—”

“Don’t start!” Rin shouted, cutting her off. “You’re gonna make me cry again!”

“He’s cried enough today,” Haru added.

“Haru!” She was positively giddy. “I’m so proud of you both.”

Rin was having a hard time getting her off the phone; even the lectures about long-distance calling were futile. The only thing that worked was whining that they were hungry, not even the talk of the exorbitant phone bill. Rin was famished by the time they got inside, grabbing any ready-made food available because the ten minutes it took to special-order was too long a wait.

After dinner, they were still too jittery to just return the room. The Village was bustling and the mall packed, swarming with athletes donning their country’s uniforms and many wearing their Olympic medals. It felt different now, compared to when they’d first arrived. Though the Olympians fought it out on the field or in the pool, here they were comrades. They were here for a common goal, and there was bound to be something you had in common with anyone—even if that common ground was a love for your sport.

“What did Phelps say in the pool?” Haru asked out of nowhere.

Rin grinned, looping his arm through Haru’s as they walked the mall. “Said he’ll be watching for me in the one-hundred meter. And he gave me a high-five!” He laughed, pulling Haru into a store filled with Olympics memorabilia. “The Olympics are great.”

Rin had to buy something for everyone he knew. They had little pewter figurines for each sport, and he found the tiny swimmers that boasted “Rio 2016” on the base. “They’re all freestyle,” he complained, but Haru grabbed one for himself. Rin bought a couple postcards, even though they’d be home by the time they were delivered, and settled on keychains for each of their friends because they actually had the different swimming strokes.

“Get this,” Haru said, holding out a coffee mug that read “Olympic mother.”

“It’s so cheesy,” Rin said, snatching it for the growing pile in his arms. “She’ll love it.”

Before they left, they had to try on the overpriced souvenir jackets. Rin deemed their swim team jackets infinitely better, but Haru had to admit that the colorful motif on the back of the souvenir jacket looked pretty good on him. Haru smiled as Rin checked himself out in the mirror, twisting his head around to admire the back.

“What are you smiling about?” Rin asked, hesitating before he shrugged off the jacket.

Haru helped him back into his team jacket, zipping it only a couple inches on the bottom as he liked it. “This is fun,” he admitted. “I missed you.”

Rin cocked an eyebrow. “You see me all the time!”

“Not like this.” Rin didn’t often see his boyfriend blush, but now Haru turned away as he hung the jacket back on a hanger.

The months of training, the countless hours pushing each other, the nights they crashed into bed and fell asleep before they could even talk. _Really_ talk. Rin rubbed Haru’s jaw with his thumb, settling into an easy smile.

“Let’s see how this looks on _you_ ,” he said, taking the souvenir jacket back off the rack.

 

Haru was unsurprised that they both wound up buying the jackets. As they walked the hall to their room Rin threw an arm around him, whispering in his ear like the teenage lovers they once were. Haru leaned into him, welcoming the kisses to his cheek, wanting to hear again how wonderful he was and how much Rin was in love with him.

“Hey, lovebirds!”

They turned around to Yazaki, who was waving as he jogged down the hall. “We’ve been looking for you! A bunch of guys are going out tonight. You game?”

Rin looked to Haru, who replied with a half-shrug. It wasn’t a refusal. “Sure,” Rin said. He held up his bags. “Lemme drop this off first.”

“As long as your roommate stays with you tonight,” Haru added.

Yazaki forced a nervous laugh. “Deal.”

Rin and Haru hadn’t yet ventured from the Olympic Village, but Yazaki seemed to know his way around Rio. They were situated near the beach, and Haru pouted that they were walking in the opposite direction. Most of the swim team traveled with them, and Rin was chatting with one of the guys, but Haru was taking in the sights. The sun was beginning to set, but he recognized the orange air of the sunset over the ocean even from the narrow city streets.

They knew they approached the place before they even saw it: music blared into the street, and the building's neon lights could be seen from a block away. Haru grasped the cuff of Rin’s jacket as Yazaki ran to the bouncer, who smiled as he approached.

“I brought friends,” he said to the bouncer, in spotty Portuguese.

“You’ve been practicing!” the bouncer replied in English, laughing as he ushered them inside. Yazaki waved the group to the top floor, where they were allowed behind a velvet-roped area without question.

The area was comprised solely of Olympic athletes, greeting each other and high-fiving people they’d never met before. Live music could be seen from over the balcony, the dance floor below packed with locals. Rin refused an alcoholic drink from a busty waitress, asking if he and his boyfriend could have some water instead. Not for the first time, Haru was impressed with Rin’s ability to switch so easily into English.

“You are boyfriends?” the waitress asked, looking back and forth between them both. “So cute!” Rin laughed as Haru looked away, the blush creeping onto his cheeks for the second time that day.

Haru had done his research, though—he hadn’t _planned_ to venture into Rio proper, but he’d learned enough to know the city would be accepting of their relationship. So when Haru leaned on the balcony to watch the band below, it was fine when Rin snuggled up to his back. He welcomed the arms around his waist, feeling the weight of Rin’s Olympic medal.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Rin said, and Haru twisted his head back to accept his kiss.

Haru was used to only dancing at Sidetracks, and though they were in a different city, surrounded by different people, the atmosphere was the same. Yazaki was nearby, dancing with a girl they didn’t recognize, holding her closer than Rin held Haru.

Rin leaned close to Haru’s ear, though his whisper could still barely be heard over the music. “Think that was his company?” he asked. Haru grunted and nudged him away, though Rin only laughed and held tighter around his waist.

They moved to the dance floor and dancing felt _good_ , with lap times and records a vague memory in their minds. Their teammates hollered when Rin grinded against Haru, and rather than protest Haru followed suit. They were slick with sweat, sensing the other’s accelerated pulse. When Haru buried his face in Rin’s neck—the others likely thought it was a mere sign of affection—Rin stroked his hair as they moved, the matched rhythm, feeling Haru’s deep inhale against his skin.

“You all right?” Rin asked, and Haru nodded and kissed his skin.

“I’m going to rest,” he said, insisting that he was fine alone and Rin could remain on the dance floor. The song had switched to something everyone else seemed to know, a popular tune with a choreographed dance. Yazaki gathered everyone around to teach them, amd Haru was content watching as Rin learned the moves.

He ordered another water and leaned against the balcony. He enjoyed the intimacy of dancing with Rin, but it was just as enjoyable to watch. Rin had picked up the steps easily, twirling and spinning like a professional, not like someone who’d just learned the dance existed two minutes prior. He’d tied his jacket around his waist, now wearing only a black muscle shirt, and Haru watched for when the hem lifted a little or he'd turn to reveal the curve of his chest.

“Your boy’s doing pretty good out there,” someone said, sidling up to him.

Haru looked up. The girl looked familiar, and it took him a moment to realize it was the soccer player he’d talked to the night before the opening ceremony. It seemed like ages ago.

“He’s a good dancer,” Haru replied, taking a sip of water.

She leaned over, too close, and Haru jerked away as she sniffed his drink. “Still with the water?”

“I’m swimming tomorrow,” he said defensively.

He knew, at least, that he didn’t have to contribute much to the conversation. She liked to talk. As she spoke of her games at the Olympics—her team had won the silver medal—he watched Rin, who now danced with someone from the women’s swim team. His dance partner said something to Rin and he pointed to Haru, so Haru offered a slight wave. They both waved back.

When Haru’s phone buzzed he excused himself, though the soccer player was in the middle of telling a story. He squinted at his phone—the lighting in the room was not good for small phone screens—and smiled to see Makoto’s name.

 _I’m watching your races again!_ he said. _Wish I could be there._

Haru had tried not to think about it—how everyone they were close to was on the other side of the world. He imagined Makoto watching the races over and over again, probably to the dismay of his housemates if he was back in Tokyo. Or, if he was at the Matsuoka’s, sitting with the family as Rin’s mom wanted to watch it yet again.

 _Me too_ , Haru replied.

When he returned to the group Rin wasn’t on the dance floor anymore, and the soccer player was still waiting for Haru at their spot on the balcony. The waitress had delivered a jug of water, leaving it on a small table where he’d been standing. He poured himself a glass.

“They’re over there,” the girl said, pointing to the corner. A group was seated around a table, and someone had brought playing cards. Haru knew very little about card games, but he knew they often involved gambling, and Rin was a terrible bluffer.

But as he went to grab the water jug again, intent on checking out the game, an arm was suddenly around his shoulders. He froze, bent over the table, as a whiff of alcoholic breath invaded his nasal passages.

“Why don’t we chill for a while?” she asked, squeezing his shoulders.

He stood up slowly, jerking his shoulders to get her off, but she wouldn’t budge. Haru frantically looked at the card game. He saw Rin, but why wasn’t Rin looking at _him_? And was she _drunk_? She hadn’t been acting like it just ten minutes before.

“I’m going over there,” he said, pointing to the table, but she jerked him toward her. A bit of water splashed onto Haru’s jacket.

“Your boy’s busy,” she said, her mouth entirely too close to his ear. “Why don’t you try a girl for a change?”

He stared at the water in his jug, idly wondering if he should dump it on her, but that would be a waste. And he couldn’t move, anyway, even when her hand moved to his back, sliding downward, and it didn’t stop . . .

Finally he could step away and out of her stubborn grasp. “Stop that,” he said. “I’m engaged.”

The words sounded foreign on his tongue, like he was lying. He’d never said the words aloud, opting for other choice phrases: _We’re getting married. My fiancé._ Haru wondered _why_ he’d never used the word “engaged,” even though that had been the case for the past two years. Ever since the day of high school graduation, when Rin set up the ceremony at his grandmother’s house. Despite the mishap of his own stupidity, and the postponement, the words still rang true, and Haru felt them now more than ever _—I’m engaged. I’m getting married to Rin._

She snorted in laughter, but went suddenly still when he didn’t respond. He set his jaw, narrowing his eyes. She began to speak, not that he heard, because it was hardly an apology and therefore he didn’t care. Instead he turned, hugging the water jug, and hurried toward the card game. Rin looked up as he approached and his smile faded with Haru’s expression, but Haru assured him that everything was fine the only way he knew how—he cupped Rin’s chin and kissed his lips, hard. He felt, rather than heard, Rin’s murmur of surprise.

“Whoa, Haru,” one of their teammates at the table said. “Keep it for the bedroom, eh?”

Haru eyed the table. Poker chips had come from somewhere, and while he didn’t understand what they meant, he understood enough that Rin’s pile wasn’t the biggest on the table—by far. “Deal me in,” Haru said, slamming the jug on the table and pulling a chair from another table.

“Eh?” Rin slid over to make room. “Haru?”

“If you’re going to lose,” Haru said, squeezing his chair between Rin and Fujioka, “then I’m winning our money back.”

“I’m not losing!” he cried, as the table burst into laughter.

“Shit, man,” Yazkai said, tossing his cards face-down to the table. “Nanase has a natural poker face.”

Haru gave him the satisfaction of a small smirk.

The rules of the game were easy enough to pick up, though Haru suspected their rules weren’t entire accurate. Either way, his hand was terrible. Nothing lined up right, no matter how much he rearranged his cards. But the others never caught on. Sweat dripped from Rin’s temple as he played, and after he folded tried to spy on Haru’s hand.

“You can’t look,” Haru said, holding his cards to his chest.

“I thought you loved me!”

“You have a terrible poker face.”

Murmurs of ascent rose around the table, and Rin slumped in his chair. But when Haru wasn’t rearranging cards his hand rested on Rin’s thigh, and he liked the way Rin played with his fingers. He touched them one by one, stroking them, mesmerized as he stared down at them. Rin tugged at that hand, moving it closer to his groin, and softly laughed when Haru moved it away again.

Haru won their money back, and then some, to the disbelief of everyone at the table.

“And you’ve never played?” one girl asked, dropping her cards. She sighed when Haru shook his head, piling his poker chips into neat little stacks.

“How do I get my money?” he asked.

 

When they returned to the room they showered together, spending more time touching each other than bathing, and then fell into bed to kiss until they fell asleep. Haru tried to forget about the incident with the soccer player, debating whether to tell Rin at all. But as they drifted into a half-sleep Haru said, “that girl wanted to have sex with me.”

 _“What?”_ Rin sat bolt upright, rattling the small bed beneath them.

“I told her no,” Haru replied, staring up at him. When he reached to trace the shadows on Rin’s jaw, he scowled and jerked away.

“I hope so!”

“Stop shouting! Jeez.”

Rin huffed as he flopped to his back, frowning.

“Don’t pout,” Haru said. Rin allowed his touch this time, feeling for his hand beneath the covers. “I told her we’re engaged.”

He immediately brightened. “You actually said that? That we’re engaged?”

_“Yes.”_

He scooted closer, draping an arm across Haru’s chest. Though the bed wasn’t large enough for much else—for the past week they’d had to nearly lie on top of each other, the single bed too narrow to lie side by side. Not that either complained. Rin looped a leg between Haru’s, positioning himself so his chin rested on Haru’s clavicle. “I like when you say that.”

Haru pushed the hair from Rin’s forehead to better see his eyes. They were bright like fire, even in the darkness of the room. “We’re engaged, Rin.” Rin snuggled closer. “You’ll be my husband.”

“We have to pick when,” Rin said, as he kissed Haru’s jaw. “And where.”

Haru combed his fingers through Rin’s hair. “What about here?”

He felt Rin’s deep breath against his own chest, though he couldn’t tell whose heart fluttered between them.

“I know we want everyone there,” Haru continued, “but I don’t know how.”

Their marriage was not yet legal in Japan, and to fly everyone overseas would be an exorbitant cost. Rin stared at Haru’s jaw, his eyebrows knitted in thought.

“We could stream it,” Rin finally said. “Get a video online or something, so everyone can watch.”

Rin looked so sincere. And so concerned, waiting for Haru’s reply, obvious that he wanted so badly for Haru to agree. “You’d be okay with that?” Haru asked.

Rin nodded, his chin knocking against Haru’s collarbone. “Yes. It’ll be perfect.” He kissed the underside of Haru’s chin. “We’ll be married, Haru. Finally.” The only suitable answer Haru could provide was kissing him again.

* * *

 

Haru should have been focusing on his upcoming race. He should’ve gone to the practice pool the next morning for a couple laps, or at least jogged on the treadmill to get his blood pumping. Instead, they were researching. They sat in bed with the laptop between them, searching for chapels in Rio. Haru left Rin to do most of the work, as he’d done the same research before. A lot of the websites were in Portuguese, which didn’t help even with an online translator, but some were thankfully in English. Rin pointed out key phrases they should look for in English, which pointed to the fact the chapel would welcome their union.

“We need to pick a date,” Rin said. “This is really last-minute.”

Haru shrugged. “Whenever they can.”

They ordered room service for lunch, downing sandwiches as they compiled lists. Rin forced Haru to eat more (“You’re swimming today! You can’t have just one sandwich!”) as he made phone calls, which was proving to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. While his English was good, it was problematic when it was neither party’s primary language.

“It’ll be fine,” Rin said, as he hung up with another chapel who had no time to slot them in. “We’ll find one, babe.” He waited until Haru swallowed his third sandwich before kissing his lips, sealing the promise. “First, you’ve got a medal to win.”

Rin helped him get ready, even though Haru knew the drill. But Rin was near to bursting with nerves himself, flitting around the room for no reason at all as Haru calmly packed his swim bag. He studied his swim cap, a simple white affair with a red circle, one that mimicked his country’s flag. Haru rubbed his surname on the side with his thumb.

“Oi, Haru.” Rin zipped up his jacket. “Time to go.”

 

The pool was familiar now. The routine of it all, the pre-race prep, the waiting for swimmers to arrive on-scene. The sound of his name over the announcements ( _“The Olympic silver medalist in the two-hundred meter free . . .”_ ), the way Haru would saunter toward his lane.

Rin was in love. He always had been, he suspected, but he couldn’t contain his gleeful mirth, the way he’d eye Haru the same way Haru eyed the pool. Unadulterated affection, a desire never to be apart.

He knew that Haru felt the same, but in that moment nothing could break his fiancé’s longing gaze for the water, except the whistle that signified he was to mount the starting block. He was one step closer to the pool, and to his primary event.

Haru had always been at home in the water, and the moment he dived, Rin knew what he wanted to do when it was over. It seemed so simple, and so obvious. He’d loved their life in Kyoto more than anything, with swimming and living together, learning so much more about each other than he ever thought possible. But after the Olympics, their married life— _married_ , he thought with a grin—would commence at home.

He wanted nothing more than to return to Iwatobi with his husband.

Rin cheered in celebration before the race had even finished. Because he knew—Haru was still reaching for the wall, and he knew. That when his head emerged from the water, as it did now, and he stared at Rin with that shocked expression on his face, he knew the crowd was cheering for him.

For his gold-medal finish.

It was typical of Haru to stay in the water as long as possible. But now he pulled himself out, surprising the refs as he rushed past, and Rin understood then what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that hug. Haru didn’t cry but he knocked the wind out of Rin, and the applause swelled as Rin lifted him off his feet.

During the victory ceremony Haru held his head high, his gold medal shining, lifting an arm to wave to the spectators and the cameras. Haru had never been one for attention—he’d often avoided it—but he glowed under that light. He deserved it, Rin thought, too overcome to even cheer for him. So overwhelmed to see Haru absorbing that spotlight, like he always should have. Because in that moment Haru was the center of the world, shining like Rin had always known he could shine.

The team wanted to celebrate again. It was _gold_ , Yazaki insisted, admiring Haru’s medal after the media and the crowds had dispersed. But as Yazaki gently handled the medal around his neck, Haru looked only at Rin. It took little else to convince Rin they should head back to the room early.

“I’ve got a heat in the morning,” Rin said, never taking his eyes off Haru, “so let’s celebrate later, all right?”

“When you’ve gone one of these, too?” Yazaki asked, motioning to the gold medal.

“Yes,” was Haru’s simple reply.

Rin was silent as they returned to the dormitory. Haru had expected him to be bursting at the seams, like he always did whenever Haru accomplished anything. He remembered when Rin wanted to celebrate just because he’d moved his last box into the apartment, even though they’d essentially been living together, anyway. But now, as Haru wore the ultimate accomplishment of aspiring athletes, he didn’t say anything at all. He didn’t even touch Haru until they got to the building, taking his hand as they climbed the steps. He was calm as he unlocked the door, then silently clicked it shut behind them.

Then, Rin wouldn’t stop kissing him.

He held around Haru’s waist like he was fragile, like the first time they’d ever kissed. Rin, walking backward into the room, never breaking contact even when he backed into the wall. Haru, in response, held his shoulders, holding harder than Rin held him, as if he needed the support.

 _That’s exactly it_ , Haru mused, as Rin kissed him, Haru leaning him against the wall. When they’d go to the club in Kyoto, or out into a large group anywhere, Rin would watch him. He’d catch Haru’s unintentional signs of overstimulation, the way he’d shut down and silently plead to _get out_. But it wasn’t until they’d returned to the room, after the overwhelming attention following the race and the victory ceremony, did Haru realize he didn’t remember much of anything from it. Yes, he remembered swimming. He remembered the way he’d bowed his head, accepting his gold medal. But he couldn’t picture the crowd, he could only hear them; he couldn’t remember what the commentators said, though it was likely all about him.

He only remembered the new weight around his neck, and the joy of spotting Rin in the blurry sea of spectators, the only face in the crowd.

“Rin,” he murmured, their lips still joined, his hands now threaded through Rin’s hair. Rin eased him backward until the backs of his legs knocked against the bed, and Haru nodded. He lay on his back, his chest surging as he watched Rin crawl over him, his skin prickling again when they kissed.

Haru’s phone began to buzz. It would be everyone in Japan, contacting him at the same time every day. He couldn’t read the messages yet—he still hadn’t fully accepted that he’d _won_ , that the gold medal he wore was _his_ , and to confirm his victory by reading his friends’ wild praises would be more than he could handle.

“Haru,” Rin whispered, running a hand up his chest.

_You did it. You’ve won. I’m so happy._

Haru kissed him again. He didn’t want to hear the words. He wanted to _feel_ them, to feel Rin’s lips on his own, to feel Rin’s hands and his body and the gold medal that rested between them.

 

* * *

 

Rin had never felt so good in his life.

He didn’t wake Haru in the morning, not right away. Rin was wide awake at three o’clock and decided that was fine enough to get out of bed, to get a quick shower before they had to get to the stadium. But after he’d showered and dressed, his jammers already on beneath his track pants, he sat on the spare bed and watched Haru sleep.

It seemed impossible now that this sleeping man was an Olympic gold medalist. Haru had fallen asleep first the night before, still wearing his medal, and Rin had slipped it off from around his neck. He’d marveled at its weight, though it wasn’t dissimilar to the silver, holding it up by the ribbon as the medallion lightly swung over his head. Now, it sat on the bedside table, ready for when Haru woke again. Because he _would_ wear it during Rin’s race, if for no other reason than to taunt him.

Rin wanted him to. What was the point of doing all this together, if not to challenge the other? And over the years their challenges had evolved from a simple rivalry, a competitiveness that was now rooted in strengthening each other. And for Rin to see Haru wearing that gold medal without having his own . . . that was the only challenge he needed.

Haru stirred, yawning as he rubbed his eyes, looking more like a child than an Olympian. He didn’t looked surprised that Rin was watching him, but Rin knew it had been a long while since even his most unusual behavior had been a surprise to Haru. “Ready?” Haru asked, his voice still bleary with sleep.

“You bet I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/95641388793) on tumblr.)


	18. Chapter 18

Haru knew that wearing his gold medal would piss Rin off. It was a simple case of childish jealousy, of someone having achieved the one thing Rin wanted most. The fact that it was Haru magnified that jealousy, sending him in a tizzy that could only be resolved by winning his own.

As Rin approached the pool for his heat, there was no mistaking his glare when Haru touched his medal. Haru smirked, a smile that didn’t say _“I’m better than you”_ but one that said, _“You better get one, too.”_ Rin returned the smirk as he snapped the strap of his goggles.

And when he advanced to the finals, it was merely force of habit for Haru to congratulate him—because he’d known Rin would make it, and that morning’s heat was a mere formality to advance.

 

* * *

 

Following semifinals, it felt wrong to be leaving the Olympic Village. They’d spent the last three nights competing for finals, but none of their events were scheduled for that evening. Instead they returned to the room to get properly dressed, feeling strangely foreign in trousers and ties rather than jammers and tracksuits. Rin tilted his head up for Haru to straighten his tie, then smooth it down on his chest.

“I’m more nervous now than I was in the heat,” Rin admitted.

Haru kissed his lips, a slow, gentle kiss that spread warmth through his limbs. “You’ll be fine.”

The chapel was only a fifteen minute walk from the Village, so they decided not to hail a cab. Haru consulted a map he’d drawn out with the directions, telling Rin where to turn as he took the lead. They almost missed the chapel itself, its small steeple overshadowed by the surrounding taller buildings. Haru carefully folded the map to slip it into his inside jacket pocket. Rin’s hand was cold and clammy when he grasped it, and as they took their first steps forward.

They didn’t need a large church. Fujioka and Yazaki had agreed to be witnesses, and Coach would probably want to come, and maybe some others from the Olympic swim team. Rin’s main concern was the video feed, but when he’d spoken to the pastor on the phone he’d assured Rin it wouldn’t be a problem.

The moment they stepped through the doors, they immediately dropped hands. Previously, their only foray into religion had been praying at the shrines in Japan. Neither had ever been in a church, but hand-holding felt inappropriate in a house of God—even if their visit was with the intent to marry.

They scanned the small sanctuary from where they stood. There weren’t any stained-glass windows, as they’d expected of a Christian chapel, but the plain windows allowed clear, unobstructed sunlight to spill over the wooden pews. Even the pews were unadorned, without decorations or even cushions on the wooden seats.

A man in a suit came in through a side door near the altar. He was a lot younger than Rin had expected, looking not much older than themselves. “Rin Matsuoka?” he asked, approaching to shake his hand.

Rin nodded, then set a hand on Haru’s shoulder. “Thanks for seeing us. This is my fiancé, Haruka Nanase.”

Though they were speaking in English, Haru knew a few choice words. He smiled slightly when he was introduced, shaking the pastor’s hand as well.

“Pastor Mikael,” he said, motioning for them to follow him.

As they advanced farther into the chapel, they took in more of its simplicity—the altar wasn’t fancy, displaying just the pulpit and a plain wooden cross on the wall behind it. Even Pastor Mikael’s office held only the bare minimum, a cherry wood desk with a couple guest chairs and a bookshelf off to the side. Rin was trembling as he sat, worse than he did after finishing a hard swim. Haru pulled at his collar, suddenly suffocated by his tie.

The pastor didn’t have a lot of questions, as he’d answered most over the phone—where they lived; how long they’d been together. But he hadn’t spoken to Haru, and now Pastor Mikael barraged him with questions. Most were similar in nature (Rin shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew the exact date they’d started dating, but he was), but Rin didn’t mind listening to him talk about their relationship. His English was slow moving, and sometimes he’d use the wrong tense. Rin found it adorable how determined Haru was not to have him translate.

“We’ve engaged two years,” Haru said, glancing at Rin. “But waited to be ready.”

It was hard for Rin to focus. Here was Haru, man of few words, struggling through a language he hated to talk of his love to a complete stranger. He mentioned how they’d wanted to marry in Australia, and it wasn’t until then that Rin understood that Haru, too, had wanted to push the quick marriage. Haru wanted all that he did. Though he’d been wary about touching Haru within the church’s walls, he reached over to hold his hand. Pastror Mikael smiled when Haru twined their fingers, which told Rin it was okay.

“Rin makes me want more,” Haru was saying, keeping steady eye contact with the pastor. “He made me . . . different.”

Pastor Mikael softly laughed. “I hope that’s a good different.”

Reading Haru’s expressions became easy once Rin had learned where to look. His face may not have revealed much, but his eyes gave him away. The way they seemed even larger when he looked at Rin, the slight shine when gazing upon those things he treasured. He looked down at their entwined hands. “Yes.” Haru lifted his hand slightly, paused, then set it back down on the arm of the chair.

“You’re allowed to kiss him,” Pastor said, catching the gesture. “You’re getting married.”

With his permission, Haru kissed the back of Rin’s hand. Haru’s eyes were closed, his lips warm as the emotional surge passed through them. Pastor Mikael looked down at his desk, pretending to busy himself with a stack of papers, but Rin could see how he watched from the corner of his eye.

When they set their hands down again, Pastor Mikael pushed a desk calendar toward them, already open to August.

 

* * *

 

Before they went out for the relay heat, Haru announced to their team that they’d selected a date.

Yazaki squealed with delight, pulling them both into a hug. He made Rin promise that they’d all be there.

“You idiots get to sign the marriage certificate,” Rin said, and Yazaki hugged him tighter. They received firm handshakes from Fujioka, and a declaration of pride in being one of their witnesses.

“Knock if off,” Rin said, scowling to hide his smile. But their celebration was interrupted by the roar of applause from the stadium, and the announcement of the teams for the relay heats.

As they headed for the pool and each member was individually announced, Haru was pleased by how much Yazaki reveled in it. It was the first time his name had crackled over the speakers; Haru already felt like a veteran, the announcers familiar with his and Rin’s names. Even Fujioka was thrilled to hear his name again, with the new bronze medal on his record, lifting his head in acknowledgement as they approached lane two.

Rin gathered them into a huddle, throwing his arms around Haru’s and Fujioka’s shoulders to form a tight circle.

“You guys know that my father won the relay as a kid,” he said. He took a deep breath and looked up at the packed stadium, who still applauded for the teams coming out to the pool. “That’s what started all of this. This”—he squeezed their shoulders—“was his dream.”

“It’s your dream now,” Haru said.

“It’s all our dreams,” Fujioka replied.

Yazaki beamed. “We’re here because of you guys. I . . .” He looked down at the tiled floor. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Don’t get sentimental yet,” Haru said, as the whistle blew to call the race’s start.

Rin clapped Fujioka on the back before he slipped into the water. When he turned around, he looked up at his team as he set to start.

That simple acknowledgement sent Haru’s heart pounding, that long-forgotten feeling of nerves. Haru wasn’t nervous for himself—the gold medal in his swim bag proved that—but he felt the old, repressed nerves that came with depending on other people. It was something he’d tried to avoid so much when he was younger, shattered only by a certain loudmouth redhead.

The race began.

Fujioka pushed off the wall, and in seconds disappeared beneath the water.

Rin wasn’t watching the pool. His gaze shifted from Yazaki, who was already on the starting block, to Haru. He raised an eyebrow at Haru’s seemingly distracted gaze, but then he touched Rin’s arm.

Rin hadn’t realized his shoulders were tense until they relaxed under Haru’s touch. When Yazaki dived, they turned to each other and smiled.

Rin prepared to set long before Yazaki even turned, intent to study their breaststroke swimmer’s moves. Haru nodded to Fujioka when he got out of the pool, but quickly trained his eyes back on Rin—the firm way he gripped the starting block, the gentle curve of his backside as he crouched. He knew he should be paying attention to their time—Rin would have—but he closed his eyes, shook out his arms, and listened for the splash that meant Rin had started his leg of the race. He prided himself in recognizing Rin’s dive, knowing exactly the way his body hit the water.

“Go get ’em, Haru,” Yazaki said, nudging him toward the starting block.

They’d return the following day, Haru knew, for the finals. There was no question. And he wanted that medal. But more than that, he wanted to wait for Rin. He watched him swim—Rin was so fast, and Haru swore he was faster with each race—watching as he turned and swam back toward him, aware of how far ahead he was of their competitors.

There was no hesitation when Rin touched the wall—Haru sprang into his dive, hearing Rin shout his name as he hit the water.

It had been many years since Haru had swam for only himself. Not since elementary school, swimming for the sake of swimming, wanting to feel nothing but the water and its connection to his body. Not for victory, not for his friends, and certainly not for any team.

He still felt the water. He felt the way it moved around him, working with him. The water was his home, his comfort, everything he’d needed.

Now, he needed the team at the end of the lane, anxiously watching as he turned and kicked off. He needed the team of elementary school, of high school. And he needed the man waiting for _him_ , who would always wait for him.

As Haru would do for him as well.

His fingers grazed the wall, the race over too soon.

Rin reached a hand out before Haru was ready to get out of the water. But he grabbed that hand anyway, allowing Rin to pull him out of the pool and into the team’s waiting embrace. It was only a heat, but the applause for their first place finish felt like the final itself.

 

When Rin’s final individual race began, Haru knew he still buzzed with the high of victory. Rin strode through the door for the one-hundred meter fly, raising both arms in silent greeting as his name was announced. Even if Rin did win gold in this event, it wouldn’t be the end. Rin was so natural in the Olympic stadium—he’d want to do it again, and continue to do it for as long as he could swim.

Haru would be disappointed if he _didn’t_ want to, because he’d already decided to return to this field in four years himself.

It was strange to think of it that way—that they _could_ do this all over again, for one, and also that Haru wanted to be in the spotlight. At first, it had been a mere desire to swim with Rin. He’d committed to it not for Olympic fame, but because they’d do it together.

Haru touched the gold medal on his chest. Maybe fame wasn’t so bad.

Rin practically jumped onto his starting block. _Idiot_ , Haru thought, shaking his head. It didn’t escape his notice—or the notice of the media—that his self-proclaimed competition, the gold-medal winner in the two-hundred meter fly, was in the lane beside him. No one knew Rin like Haru did—it was not an intimidation, nor a cause for worry. They didn’t understand that it would drive Rin forward, make him swim faster.

He understood that from first-hand experience.

Haru wasn’t nervous when they dived. Rin’s competition was in the neighboring lane, and his fiancé wore a gold medal around his neck. Haru smiled to himself.

“He’s falling behind,” Coach mumbled, as the two leading swimmers neared the turn.

“He’ll make it up on the turn,” Haru calmly replied.

And he did. _Of course he did_ , Haru thought, watching his return. He denied the flare of anxiety as he watched, ignoring the powerful kick of his competitor. They were close—too close, as the clock ticked. Haru couldn’t help but stand at the end, trying to catch who hit the wall first. They both came up gasping, looking at each other before looking to the results.

Haru couldn’t check the clock, not yet.

 

* * *

 

Rin hadn’t removed his goggles and they were filling with water, tears sloshing in the bottoms. Around him, people were talking. In the pool, the water magnified their voices.

Phelps was leaning over the lane divider, hand poised for a high-five. Rin absentmindedly accepted it, partially wondering why he was receiving this attention, why he deserved it.

_“Rin!”_

Despite the deafening crowd, and the splash of water as people climbed from the pool, there was only one voice he heard. Rin thought he’d imagined it—it was impossible to hear him from that far—but when he looked up, he saw Haru.

Haru, standing beside their coach, clutching the ribbon of his gold medal.

When he finally got out of the pool, it was too long until he could embrace Haru. Haru waited—he was always waiting—and Rin removed his goggles, the collected tears a waterfall down his face. As their arms wound around each other, it was Haru’s turn to keep his espoused upright when he threatened to collapse.

“Rin.”

It surprised him how quiet Haru’s voice was now, when he’d heard him so clearly from so far away.

“It’s okay, Rin.”

Haru’s arms tightened around him and, to Rin’s surprise, his lips fluttered his cheek. Here, in the Olympic stadium, in clear view of the world.

It was like his feet didn’t touch the ground. Like he’s never left the water and it was just him with Haru, the water carrying them. Rin pressed his face to Haru’s shoulder, but Coach’s hand was on his back, trying to guide them away from poolside.

“’Course it’s okay,” Rin said, as they began to walk, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders. “Silver isn’t so bad.” Haru kissed his cheek again, and Rin wanted to tell him to stop—everyone definitely saw that one, including those watching at home—but it felt so good, and he felt so light.

“I thought you had it.”

When they got to the back room, Rin went for his swim bag. Haru stood close by as he rummaged through it, pushing aside his spare clothes and towel to grasp the small, gold medallion that sat on the bottom.

He kissed the child-sized medal. Rin felt like he was six years old again, seeking his father’s approval. Waiting for Dad to tell him how good he was, even if he hadn’t won. He closed his eyes, remembering the way that weather-worn hand ruffled his hair after they swam a lap together.

> _“You’ve gotta do better than that to beat me!” Dad said, laughing as he pushed back his damp hair._
> 
> _“I’m gonna beat you! I’ll go to the Olympics. I’ll prove it!”_

 

“Rin?” Haru’s hands were around his waist, their foreheads pressed together. Though Rin was looking down at the medal he still saw Haru’s blue eyes, so close.

He looped the ribbon around his wrist, the medal dangling from his pulse point, so when he finally returned the hug it swung lightly between Haru’s shoulder blades. He closed his eyes as Haru left the imprint of his lips on Rin’s cheeks and his nose and his lips.

“He’s proud of you,” Haru said. And though they heard the announcement for the start of the victory ceremony, and Coach came barreling into the room to collect him, Rin pressed their lips together one more time.

 

He remembered little of the victory ceremony. And all that happened after was a haze, the media and the congratulations and the countless photos, many of which included Haru. He was vaguely aware of walking back to their room, having politely declined Yazaki’s offer at a celebration (though he _did_ say something about postponing it until after the medley). When Rin finally came off autopilot, when the reality of the race and the finale had sunk in, he was already lying in bed with Haru, mostly naked, and still wearing his silver medal.

Haru was kissing his way down his body, lips dragging across his skin. He felt the weight of the medal around his neck, and Haru’s lips below his belly, and instantly melted beneath him. If not for Haru’s hands on his hips he thought he’d dissolve into a puddle, melting off the bed, incapable of believing all that had happened. Haru eased off his trunks and Rin sucked in a breath when Haru licked his cock, exposed to the night breeze through the open window. Rin grasped his medal in one hand as the other cupped the base of Haru’s head, and not for the first time during their Olympic experience Haru was going down on him.

 _There’s still a chance for gold_ , he told himself. Not just in the relay, but in years to come. Years still to swim, with Haru, achieving all he’d ever dreamed. He wouldn’t claim to not be disappointed—Haru had won; he hadn’t—but it wasn’t jealously. There was a lifetime yet to live, beside a man he loved more than anything. More than swimming. Rin tilted his head back, twining Haru’s soft hair through his fingers.

“I love you,” Rin murmured. Haru slid a hand up, grasping the hand that held his medal. And when Rin reached climax, accidentally grabbing too hard to Haru’s hair, he didn’t complain, but whimpered slightly as came up to kneel between Rin’s thighs.

“I love you, too,” Haru said, then kissed his thighs, kissed wherever he could reach, until Rin sat up to meet his lips. Haru still wore his jammers—a different pair, Rin hoped, than when they’d swam that morning—and he felt Haru’s toned thighs beneath his swimsuit, inching closer until their chests were flush and the medal pressed between them.

“Haru.” Rin pushed Haru’s hair from his forehead. It was almost too much, being so close to those bright eyes, knowing how raptly Haru looked at him, too. “Tomorrow’s our last race.”

Haru frowned. “It’s not our last.”

“It is _now_! Our first Olympics . . .”

Haru kissed his upper lip. “You want to come back?”

“You bet I do.” He grinned, wiggling his butt to inch closer. “I’ve gotta win my gold. Can’t have you one-upping me. You comin’?”

“Idiot.” He smiled, kissing the corner of Rin’s mouth. “You’d talk me into it anyway.”

“Oi!”

There were few things Haru hated more than being tickled. But Rin’s hands were already on his waist, which just happened to be one of Haru’s sensitive spots, and it was worth it to see him squirm and hear that laugh he always denied had happened.

“Rin— stop—!”

Haru pressed his face to Rin’s chest to muffle the laughter, but Rin felt it. He felt it down to his core, the trembling of Haru’s body as he tried to contain it. But Rin pushed him down to the bed, releasing the laugh to echo over the walls. He tried to shove Rin away, squirming unsuccessfully, his laughter dissolving from the bright, tinkling sound Rin loved to a soundless gasp as Rin attacked him harder.

When he finally let up he merely watched Haru panting, catching his breath. He grunted when Rin kissed his lower lip but still draped his arms around him, urging him down, his silent command for Rin to continue kissing him.

And he did—down his heaving chest and his sensitive stomach, kissing his hip and nipping at his waist. He fidgeted when Rin’s lips touched his ticklish spots, holding back the aftershock of giggles.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Rin murmured, lips pressed to Haru’s skin. He worked his way back up, slowly kissing his stomach and his chest, then rested his head in the crook of Haru’s neck. Haru’s heart beat against his chest, his fingertips tracing his skin, and Rin smiled when Haru’s lips rested on the top of his head.

“You okay?” Haru asked, feeling the ribbon around Rin’s neck.

Rin lifted Haru's hand to kiss his fingertips. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

* * *

 

They slept in the following morning. Rin didn’t want to get up, with Haru cuddled beside him. He ran a hand down Haru’s side, pausing at his hip when feeling the smooth fabric of his jammers. Rin rolled his eyes. _Not the first time he’s slept in them_ , he mused, as a sound-asleep Haru nuzzled his neck.

After they woke and breakfasted, they met Pastor Mikael at the chapel to discuss the ceremony’s script. Through an extensive network of pastorial connections, he’d managed to find a local Japanese-speaking officiant. And when he’d learned who required his services, he was thrilled to conduct the ceremony free of charge for his fellow countrymen.

“How long can we ride on this Olympic fame thing?” Rin asked.

Pastor Mikael shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out.”

As a result, the pastor had a selection of scripts in Japanese they could choose from, though regretted that most were based on religious heterosexual ceremonies. He left Rin and Haru in the office to sift through the papers, giving them free reign to cut and paste and create their own ceremony to suit their needs.

It was a tedious task. They sat on the floor of the office, reading through the ceremonies, not agreeing on anything. They had a larger pile of rejects than anything they both liked. Rin had an aversion to the word “courtship,” and Haru hated anything with cheesy metaphors.

“I _like_ metaphors!” Rin cried.

Haru tossed aside a piece of paper. “Maybe if it includes water.”

“No.” Rin shook his head. “You aren’t marrying _water_.”

“I don’t want to marry it!”

In the end, Rin found a blank piece of paper in Pastor’s desk and they wrote their own. Yet they still argued over what to include: Haru deemed any of Rin’s favorite lines cheesy, and the ones Haru liked were boring.

“Marriage is about _compromise_ ,” Rin singsonged.

“You have to compromise, too.”

But they fell silent amid the mess of papers and notes, listening to the gentle _scritch_ of Rin’s pencil on paper. Haru rested his head on Rin’s shoulder as he wrote out the final script, leaving empty space for the vows.

“Write those, too." Haru pointed to the paper.

“I can’t write those now! You can’t see them!”

Haru lifted his head. “Why not?”

“Because, it’s . . . it’s tradition!” Rin burst into a blush as he scowled, hiding the paper face-down on the floor like the secret vows had already been composed.

“Tradition?” Haru frowned. “It’s a gay wedding.”

But he permitted Rin’s romanticism. Willingly. They held up the completed script together, each holding one side of the paper, and read it over slowly, pausing at the absence of the yet-to-be-composed vows. When Haru reached the bottom of the page, he cupped Rin’s chin to kiss him.

“I take it you’re happy?” Rin ask with a lopsided grin.

In response, Haru kissed him again.

Afterward, Pastor Mikael accompanied them to a jewelry store, where they stocked matching men’s wedding bands. There was a small television on in the shop as they walked in, which played the familiar Olympic anthem. Rin glanced at the TV as it switched from the waving flag boasting the Olympic rings to women’s gymnastics. The shop owner only spoke Portuguese, but he recognized them right away. His grip was firm as he shook their hands; Rin caught Haru massaging his hand when the owner’s back was turned.

The shop owner went straight for the wedding bands, speaking rapid-fire Portuguese, and Rin and Haru raised similar curious eyebrows to Pastor Mikael.

“He says you’re very talented,” Pastor Mikael translated. “He’s been watching the Olympics from the start.” The shop owner was still talking as he unlocked a display case. “He saw your kiss on television.” Haru flushed, suddenly transfixed by a spot of worn carpet under his toe. “And it would be an honor to sell Olympic medalists their wedding bands.”

The shop owner waved them over to the counter. He stroked his chin with a “hmm,” looking back and forth between them both. Rin lifted his head. He’d thought the guy would look at his hands, maybe try to calculate his size or something, but he didn’t do anything but stare at them. But he seemed content with whatever he found, for he pulled a tray of rings from the display. He mumbled to himself—or it could have been to them; they’d never know the difference—selecting rings seemingly at random to set on the counter.

Rin shoved his hands into his pockets. Haru gently picked up one of the rings, like he feared it would burst into flames.

The shop owner motioned for Pastor Mikael to follow him, pretending to show him something in a display on the other side of the shop, but it was an obvious ploy to leave them blissfully alone.

He’d left the overly gaudy rings in the display, and hadn’t bothered taking out the plain ones, either. The bands on the countertop seemed to reflect them both—they were simple, but not boring. Most were silver, which they preferred, with a subtle sparkle.

Rin didn’t watch as Haru studied the rings under the light. He was looking everywhere but where he was supposed to—he was distracted by the television, watching a gymnast swing on the bar. He was staring into the display, past the rings they were supposed to be looking at, at the bands still trapped within the case.

“Want to see something else?” Haru asked, setting down a ring, but Rin shook his head without looking up. He glanced at the shop owner and the pastor, who were preoccupied with their own conversation, grateful that neither spoke Japanese. “Rin. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Rin finally crouched to eye-level with the countertop, staring at the wedding bands. But his face was a blank slate, his body steady as he held his crouch. He looked at the rings like they were foreign, a thing that someone else should be deciding, not relevant to his own life.

“We can come back later,” Haru offered.

Rin stood, brushing down the front of his pants. “I’m just distracted. We have a relay to swim.”

Though the excuse was legitimate, Rin couldn’t decide whether it was the reason. He explained to Pastor Mikael that they had to think about it, and that they’d return the following day. He and the shop keeper seemed to understand—“It’s a big decision!” they said—and when they went outside again, already the heaviness of the shop interior seemed to dissipate.

Rin was uncommonly quiet on the walk back. Haru kept on opening his mouth and closing it, changing his mind whenever he thought to speak. The city roads were packed with the weekend bustle, people shopping or going to lunch or merely hanging around on street corners. Some watched them, likely wondering why they looked familiar. Or they gawked, knowing exactly who they were, but too nervous to approach.

There were a few people who waved them down, eager fans seeking autographs. Some had Olympic paraphernalia handy, whether it was a glossy program or an old flier advertising the games. The programs at least had a section in the back for autographs; Rin and Haru always signed near each other, sometimes with their signatures overlapping.

Rin would speak to the fans in English, which most understood. They smiled and nodded, clutching their autographs to their chest, which brought a smile to even Haru’s otherwise stoic face. One girl didn’t know a word of English, but patted her cheek and lifted her eyebrows in a silent query. Rin smirked, then quickly pecked her cheek, and she looked expectedly to Haru before he relented as well.

It was a small relief when they returned to the Olympic Village, where there were fewer people staring and taking not-so-stealthy photos.

They didn’t get far before Haru tugged him into a narrow alley between dormitories. It was empty at that hour, typically used only at night, a shortcut between parties or a pit stop for couples with roaming hands and lips.

“Are you nervous?” Haru asked.

Rin stared at his feet, offering a single-shoulder shrug. He wasn’t asking about the race. But he stepped a little closer to Haru, mindlessly rubbing the cuff of Haru’s T-shirt. “A little,” he admitted. “But not because it’s you. Because . . . it’s a big deal.”

Haru’s nod was slightly noticeable.

“We’ll go back tomorrow,” Rin said, taking Haru’s hands in both of his.

They kissed slowly, their bodies soothed by the other’s touch, by the lazy drag of their lips. They stood a long while, eyes closed, breathing the other’s air and feeling the other’s skin.

“Let’s go win,” Haru said, which brought the dazzle back to Rin’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/96187642558) on tumblr.)


	19. Chapter 19

“Where have you _been_?!”

Yazaki crashed into them the moment Rin and Haru turned down the hallway, as if he’d been waiting outside their room. Haru, unprepared for the sudden attack, stumbled backward into the wall. He still held Rin's hand, which caused all three to tumble into a pile of limbs.

“Get . . . off!” Rin shoved Yazaki, who grunted slightly when his butt hit the floor. “We were busy!”

Fujioka emerged from his room and explained Yazaki had been a bundle of nerves all morning.  He’d wanted nothing more than to go to the pool hours prior.

“Our race isn’t for another four hours,” Rin said, though Yazaki ignored him as he climbed to his feet.

Instead they went for lunch, then headed to the practice pool. It was packed with swimmers they’d see later that night. Though they were competitors, they all greeted one another like they were friends. They understood little of what the others said, due to the language barrier, but a slight wave and a nod was an adequate greeting for those they planned to beat out for gold.

Despite having just eaten, Yazaki jumped into a lane the moment it was unoccupied. Rin yelped, reaching out like he’d be able to pull him from the pool, but Fujioka assured him it was fine.

“I’ve learned a lot about his metabolism this week,” he said with a weak laugh.

Haru wasn't sitting near them. He'd found a bench near the wall, staring at his cell phone between his knees. His thumbs mindlessly rubbed the screen, like he was cleaning it off, but it was such a slow, constant motion that Rin knew the screen wasn’t dirty at all.

For a second, Rin wished Makoto was there. He half-expected Fujioka to go sit with Haru, asking if everything was all right, but they were all distracted in their own thoughts: focused on the race, preparing themselves. Now Haru was typing, the hunt-and-peck method with one finger, still unaccustomed to writing on a small screen. But then he sighed, leaning back against the wall, and Rin couldn’t figure out if he’d sent whatever it was he’d been typing—if it had been a text at all.

 _Go talk to him_ , he heard Makoto say in his head, like some kind of guardian angel. And Makoto _would_ , if he were there, and he’d know exactly what to say, too. Rin sighed, fitting his goggles and swim cap over his head.

“Oi, Haru!” he called, as Yazaki clambered out of the water. “Let’s practice!”

Swimming was what he knew best. It was the foundation of all they'd ever known. Rin slung an arm around Haru’s shoulders when he came over, and he caught that small smile. When Fujioka jumped into the pool, Rin nuzzled the side of Haru’s face.

“You’re distracting,” Haru said, shaking him off. Rin dropped his arm but Haru still stood close by, even if his focus was elsewhere—the water, not that Rin expected anything less. But he lightly touched the small of Rin’s back when Yazaki dived in. “Don’t swim too hard,” Haru said. “Save it for the race.”

 _I know that_ , he wanted to say, but only smirked as he mounted the starting block.

 

* * *

 

Haru hadn’t sent the text. Makoto had heard enough of Haru’s relationship problems over the years. He’d heard of “cold feet,” but hadn’t expected Rin to be the one to get them.

Rin tried to make it up to him all during practice. Rin touched him at all possible opportunities, and didn’t snark at him for stupid reasons like he usually did. Rin channeled his nerves a different way that afternoon, one that Haru resented when they were around others—the touchy-feely variety, the overcompensation for his unexpected behavior in the jewelry shop.

And his second place finish . . . Rin looked okay, and he acted like he was, but Haru couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed. They still had one final chance. One last chance for Rin to achieve gold.

 _We’re here_ , Rin had said at dinner, toasting Haru’s fourth-place finish in the four-hundred meter free.

Haru watched him swim through the blue screen of his goggles, wondering if that was enough.

 

* * *

 

But Rin reverted to his usual self right before the relay, surrounded by his team and the crowd’s attention. He held to Haru’s shoulder as he waved, but Haru didn’t mind—he, too, acknowledged their fans, offering a small wave before shucking off his tracksuit.

It was fitting to conclude their first Olympics with the medley relay.

“Just do what you did in the heat,” Haru said to his team, and they all nodded.

He stood close to the water’s edge as Fujioka jumped in. When the whistle blew, the race began the same way their heat had—flawlessly, perfectly, their backstroke swimmer a solid start for the team that would follow. Yazaki mounted the block to ready himself, stretching his arms behind him. He set to dive, though Fujioka was still on the opposite side of the pool.

Haru stepped up beside Rin, then linked their pinkies together. Rin was no longer surprised by his subtle gestures; they remained focused on the pool as Rin curved his pinky, locking them together.

Haru leaned closer after Yazaki dived, breath warm on Rin’s ear. “Thank you,” he whispered, then released Rin’s hand.

There was a new resolve in Rin’s walk, in the way he approached the starting block. A new confidence, an assurance of victory. _This is it_ , Haru thought, as Rin snapped his goggles strap. Nearly ten years of practices and training, of severed bonds and reunions, of love and loyalty. They had their victories—silver and gold combined—but the medley was theirs. And the moment Rin was in the water, Haru was right there. Watching him, preparing to follow him, even long after the conclusion of that single race.

Fujioka squeezed his shoulder, and for a brief moment Haru imagined that hand belonged to a different backstroke swimmer, one who had never left his side, even from the other end of the world. As he stepped onto the starting block, he imagined his old swim club manager standing in Coach’s stead with a stopwatch in her hand, caring more about his times than he ever did.

Still, he didn’t watch the clock. He watched Rin.

 _For the team_ , Haru thought, as he set to dive. Knowing the exact moment Rin would return, as he always had.

 

 

Rin was exhausted. He squinted toward the pool after he got out, his vision hazy from pushing his body. His arms were trembling—Fujioka had helped pull him out—and he wanted nothing more than to crash right then and there, but he had to watch Haru.

It would be his last time in that pool. It was a strange thought, as Haru pounded through the water. It had gone by too quickly—the years were behind them, and now the Olympics were as well.

 _Not yet_ , he thought, as Haru flipped and turned. They had a race to finish.

The team was cheering. The sound was mixed among the cheers of the crowd, but Rin heard each of them loud and clear—his own voice above them all, shouting Haru’s name over and over. Yazaki screamed; Fujioka cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, as if Haru could hear them.

Perhaps he could.

Rin quickly glanced up at the timer before focusing back on the pool. He couldn’t stop grinning.

Haru made it look so easy. Rin knew how it felt to push through the water, forcing yourself to surpass the competition. But for Haru it was a leisurely swim, one that happened to be faster than trained athletes.

 _We_ are _trained athletes_ , he thought, shouting Haru’s name as he crouched, wanting to be the first to see his face. He watched the ripple of Haru’s shoulders, the way he gasped as he breathed. So close, and getting closer.

Rin started crying before Haru even smacked the wall.

 

 

No longer could they deny a night on the town, mutually agreeing that a celebration was in order at the pub. The place was swarming with other swimmers who’d finished their races as well, riding out the rest of their time at the Olympic Village. Yazaki showed off his bronze medal to anyone who even glanced at their table. Fujioka ordered a pitcher of beer (“Courtesy of Sports Zero, right?” he’d said), and Haru frequently reached over to wipe tears from Rin’s cheeks.

“Sorry, guys,” Yazaki said, grabbing an empty glass to pour himself a beer. “I know I slowed you all down.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fujioka replied.

“Are you kidding?” Rin said. “I’m going home with three Olympic medals.”

Haru sniffed his beer, then frowned as he pushed the glass toward Rin. “I win, though.”

“Don’t you start!” Rin kneed him under the table. “I’ll beat you next time.”

The text messages from home came pouring in. Rin’s mom had another Olympics get-together, hosting a breakfast party to watch “her boys,” as she’d started to call them. They’d missed her phone call while they were ordering from the bar, and now they both leaned into the phone to listen to the message. It was hard to hear over Gou’s screeching in the background.

Rin threw an arm around Haru’s shoulders, holding his phone out to take a picture. “C’mere, babe. Look happy.”

But Haru hadn’t stopped smiling since he climbed from the pool, immediately bombarded with hugs from his team. In the seconds before Rin snapped the photo, Haru kissed his cheek.

While they’d been preoccupied with messages from home, Yazaki had pushed a few tables to the side of the room to create a makeshift dance floor. People instantly crowded the floor, grinding and grooving to the music over the speakers. Yazaki’s bronze medal glinted in the dim light, bouncing along with his every move.

Rin leaped to his feet, extending a hand out to Haru. He bowed slightly, lifting his eyes to catch the tail end of Haru’s smile. Without prompting, Rin took his hand and raised it up high, already moving to the music as Haru stood to join him.

They, like their teammates, wore their medals, which clanged as they danced. Rin pulled Haru closer, breathing in his chlorinated scent, sensing the tinge of salt and sweat beneath.

Rin pressed his mouth to Haru’s ear. “Sorry about the rings. I freaked out.”

Haru held him tighter around the waist, their hipbones crashing together. “I know.”

“I love you,” Rin whispered. “Nothing will change. I’ll still be me, and you’ll still be you.”

Haru stopped dancing, but didn’t release Rin’s waist as his gaze pierced his eyes. “I don’t want that.” He lifted Rin’s hand, the one that wore his promise ring. “It _won’t_ be me and you. It’ll be ‘us.’” He kissed the simple band adorning Rin’s finger.

The song shifted to something slower. People paired up around them, or scoped someone to steal for an intimate dance. There were soft laughs and even softer kisses, men and women draping themselves around each other. Rin melted into a easy smile and squeezed Haru’s hand. “I want ‘us.’”

Haru rested his head on Rin’s shoulder. They were inexperienced at slow dancing—Rin didn’t have the patience for anything that wasn’t upbeat—but he held Haru closer as they swayed to the music. The lyrics were incomprehensible, being in Portuguese, but it sounded soothing and romantic. He leaned over Haru, softly singing an English tune into his ear.

_“And I wonder,_

_when I sing along with you_

_if everything could ever feel this real forever,_

_if anything could ever be this good again . . .”_

“What is that?” Haru asked, lifting his head slightly.

Rin kissed his forehead, then gently guided his head back to his shoulder. “Tell you later.”

When the music started hopping again, so did they. They fell into an easy rhythm, knowing exactly how the other moved, molding against each other. Haru pulled him in by the waist, their medal clanging. A small circle had formed around them and people clapped in rhythm, shouting for them to keep dancing. Rin expected Haru to shy away but he danced harder, their chests and hips crashing as they moved. Haru’s fingers slid up the back of his shirt, exposing the small of his back. Rin crouched low, to the roaring approval of their audience; his hands wandered down Haru’s chest and then back up as he stood, not missing a beat.

“Save it for the bedroom!” someone shouted, and Rin’s laugh vibrated against Haru’s skin.

Though the party was still going strong, Rin and Haru ducked out early. “We have plans tomorrow,” Rin said to their relay teammates, who wanted them to stay. “We have wedding rings to buy.” Haru pushed the excuse by yawning, sleepily hugging Rin’s arm.

Rin could’ve fallen asleep the moment they returned to the room, even as he slowly peeled off Haru’s clothes. And Haru’s kisses were slow and lazy, which felt even better than if he’d been more fervent. The night was winding down, and Rin’s limbs were heavy with exhaustion, and the only thing that felt better than Haru’s lips was the heavy medallion around his neck.

“Let’s get a bath,” Rin said, tilting his head back as Haru kissed his throat. “I’m beat.”

He felt the downward curve of Haru’s mouth on his neck.

“What are you pouting about?”

Haru eased off Rin’s track pants, which pooled around his feet like water. “I want to have sex.”

Rin rubbed Haru’s back as his mouth pressed to his neck again. “You’re so manipulative,” he said, now feeling the smile against his skin.

The tub was narrow. Rin leaned back as Haru tried to straddle him, pulling Rin closer. His chest heaved as Rin’s hands wandered, sliding down his backside. He sucked in a breath when Rin slipped a finger inside, but Rin knew his body so well, so intimately. He moved inside him slowly, those eyes looking down at him expectedly, and already Haru grinded against his body.

“Impatient,” Rin muttered, as Haru clung to his shoulders.

But it felt so good when Haru lowered himself onto him, like they’d never made love before. _Really_ good. Rin responded with a small sigh of satisfaction, leaning back on the tiled wall as his nails lightly grazing Haru’s ass.

“I’ve missed you,” Rin said, the words muffled by Haru’s lips.

 _It’ll always be like this_ , Rin thought, feeling Haru from within, sharing the water. Not simply the sex—though he wouldn’t complain about that—but a life surrounded by Haru, the center of his love. His partner for life. Haru kissed him again and his lips tasted so sweet, and he smiled, knowing he’d never taste another set of lips. He felt Haru’s sighs though his own body. In a matter of days, they would be married.

Haru lowered down farther, nails digging deeper into Rin’s shoulders.

“Haru?” His voice was low and breathy, and Haru shivered.

“It’s fine,” Haru said, grasping harder to his shoulders, tilting his head back to welcome Rin’s lips on his throat. He tasted Haru’s sweat on his tongue, felt the warmth that coursed through his body.

“You’re perfect,” Rin murmured.

Haru’s stiffened but pushed down farther, extending his neck for Rin’s mouth. “Don’t say things like that.”

 _But it’s true_ , he thought, kissing Haru’s chin, tipping his face down to meet his lips. _You’re perfect to me._

_My gold medalist._

_My husband._

_My Haru._

* * *

 

Haru felt strange in the morning.

Not a bad strange, but . . . different. They’d won races before, and they’d each won Olympic medals, too. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he’d won gold, while Rin hadn’t—but he’d decided the night before that Rin wasn’t bothered by that. Perhaps his strangeness stemmed from Rin still lying in bed, their limbs intertwined to save space. It was seldom that Haru could watch him sleep, as Rin often woke first.

Even as he dreamed, he looked happy.

Had Haru stolen his dream? He hadn’t been the one with the Olympics goal in the first place—Rin had motivated him; Rin got him to do it. Rin pushed him harder than he’d pushed himself. It was all Rin. It always had been.

No, Rin’s dream hadn’t only been to win gold—it was so much more. Swimming with friends; swimming with Haru. He’d get his gold medal the next time, or the next.

Haru threaded a strand of Rin’s hair through his fingers. It was slightly damp and matted from going to bed wet. He loosely combed it, pausing when Rin stirred, but continued when he didn’t wake.

 _He’ll be my husband_ , Haru thought, admiring the sharp curves of his cheekbones and his nose. He lightly kissed his jaw. _My Rin._

 

* * *

 

While the other swim team members commenced a week-long party, with their races and victories behind them, Rin and Haru ventured into Rio proper. Pastor Mikael met them at the jewelry shop, and the owner was already prepared with a new selection of prospective wedding bands.

“First, congratulations!” Pastor said, enthusiastically shaking their hands. “I wish you could’ve seen that race from my point of view. I was on the edge of my seat!” The shop owner was nodding, even if he understood little of the pastor’s words. “Now, take your time. There’s no rush here.”

The shop had other patrons, too; Rin and Haru were constantly interrupted by someone requesting an autograph or merely saying hello. Neither minded too much. When Haru signed autographs and took a few photos with fans, Rin refused to explain why he’d laugh every time.

“Because you’re adorable,” he’d say, not explaining anything, and Haru would blush as he scowled.

But when they looked through the rings, they were engrossed. Rin knew that the pastor and the shop owner watched them. They huddled close as Rin held another band up to the light. He was deliberately overlooking the flashier one that Haru wouldn’t like, and Haru was ignoring those that were too plain.

They both reached for one, but Haru snatched it up first. Rin pouted as he tried it on. It was similar to the rest—they all looked the same after a while—but they paused, staring at it. Haru tilted his head, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers. It was a simple silver band, but had a subtle design encircling it that sparkled. There were no diamonds—nothing outwardly gaudy—but it was pretty.

“Let me see,” Rin said, sliding the ring off Haru’s finger.

It was a little snug on his finger, but looked good on him, too. Rin held it up as Haru had, twisting the ring and studying it from every angle. “It is too gay?” Rin asked, deliberately speaking in Japanese so the other patrons didn’t understand.

“Rin,” Haru said, exasperated, “we’re gay.”

“You know what I mean!”

The shop owner sauntered over, cutting in, even though he didn’t understand a word of their Japanese. “It suits both of you,” Pastor Mikael translated. “It’s not too plain or too flashy.”

Rin looked up. “How does he know that?”

Pastor merely shrugged, turning away as he smiled.

Haru hugged Rin’s arm as they stared at his hand, catching the ring’s glint under the shop’s lights. “It looks good,” Haru said, and the owner was already digging through a drawer for a ring sizer. Rin looked away, though the shop was too crowded and there was no possible way to hide his fresh tears from everyone.

When they left the shop, the tiny bag felt inadequate. Tucked inside were two matching wedding bands, each in their own small box, the slight pieces of jewelry that spoke volumes. Pastor Mikael offered to hold them until the ceremony and they agreed, though reluctant to part with them.

“Just one less thing to worry about,” Pastor said, carefully cradling the small bag. “See you Tuesday.”

“What do we do until then?” Haru asked, and Rin laughed as he looped an arm around his waist.

 

The time difference made it hard to talk to people at home, but they tried. Rin and Haru stayed up late that night, hooking up the laptop for a video chat. Rin’s mom had gathered everyone together again, and it was impossible to have a proper conversation with all the screaming over Japan’s end of the feed.

“Let’s see those medals,” Rin’s mom said, and they both had them ready to show off. On the other side of the screen Nagisa screamed, shielding his eyes, pretending to be blinded.

“You’re an idiot,” Rin said with a laugh, and draped all three of his medals around his neck. He thrust his chest toward the camera. “Too much, Ma?”

“Never,” she replied.

Gou pushed everyone aside to say hi, and Makoto peeked in behind her, very obviously holding her around the waist as they chatted. Out of view of their own camera, Haru pinched Rin’s thigh. He smacked Haru’s arm away, which only Gou seemed to notice as she hid a laugh behind her hand.

Someone pushed Makoto and Gou out of the frame, and Sousuke’s smiling face filled the screen.

“Well, look who decided to show up!” Rin said, throwing his arms up and nearly smacking Haru in the head. “Took time out of your busy schedule to see me?”

“You better watch out, Matsuoka,” Sousuke said, as Haru dramatically massaged his cheek. “Tokyo is mine.”

“Ha! Try me!”

The occasional blog comment or text message didn’t compare to seeing their faces again. Over in Japan they jostled each other for the screen, pushing someone out of the way when remembering yet something else they wanted to share with Rin or Haru. There was laughter in the background—once, they were certain Rei was screaming—and countless smiles on-screen, and the last thing Rin wanted was cry in front of them all. He held tight to Haru’s hand as Haru spoke, plainly answering their questions about their races and the Olympic Village.

“What are you planning next?” Rei asked, when he finally got screen time. “What do Olympic athletes do after achieving the ultimate honor?”

It was the only time they looked away from their friends. They smiled at each other, relinking their hands. Haru turned back to a bustle of faces on screen, to those who never doubted they’d fulfill their dreams. “We’re coming home,” he said with a smile, and their friends erupted in cheers.

“Kiss him!” Nagisa chanted. “Kiss him!”

Rin trailed a finger across Haru’s jaw, tilted his head, and softly kissed his lips. The small group crowded in the Matsuoka residence cheered once again.

“No one wants to see that!” Sousuke shouted from the background, and there was a new round of laughter.

 

* * *

 

Part of him wanted to wear the traditional _hakama_ of Japanese weddings, though none of Rin’s previous wedding plans had included it. They were past traditional; none of this was traditional. Rin was disappointed that they couldn’t find them in Brazil, ignoring Haru’s taunts that he hadn’t even wanted to wear it. But as Rin stood in Pastor Mikael’s office, sweating under his lightweight, white western suit, he decided it didn’t matter.

Haru was tucked away in another room on the other side of the chapel. Fujioka was with him, which seemed the better option for Haru. But that meant Rin was stuck in the office with Yazaki. Rin sat on the corner of the pastor’s desk, twisting his shaking hands together, as Yazaki tried yet again to gel back that wayward strand of hair in front of his face.

“Just leave it,” Rin said, jerking his head away.

Yazaki wiped his gel-coated hands on a towel. “You sure? I can get it this time!”

“Never mind! Haru likes it, anyway.”

Though he told his family _not_ to text him the day of, he’d received five messages from his mother and two from Gou in the past twenty minutes. The first few were asking when the video feed would be live—Pastor Mikael had quickly resolved that one—and then they wanted to know when they would _start_ , as the feed had shown nothing but an empty altar for the past five minutes.

Rin had shut off his phone and ordered Yazaki to hold it for him.

He nearly stumbled off the desk when there was a knock on the door, but it was only Pastor Mikael—which had been the plan, but Rin’s nerves were shot. “We’re ready,” he said, poking his head into the room. “Are you?”

Rin stood upright and tugged down the hem of his jacket. “Yeah.” But Yazaki was still fussing. Rin lifted his chin as Yazaki straightened the knot of his tie.

“You’re good,” Yazaki said, patting Rin’s shoulder. “I’m heading out.” He vigorously shook his hand before sneaking out of the office. Pastor followed, leaving Rin alone in his final moments of unmarried life.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. He knew that the pastor would be going over to Haru’s room now, telling him the same exact thing, and he envisioned the calm way Haru hid his nerves. They woke in the same bed that morning, trying to convince the other that they weren’t nervous, going about their morning like it was any other morning.

He pressed a hand to his chest. Haru hadn’t noticed when they’d dressed, but Rin had slipped his relay medal on under his shirt. It wasn’t outwardly visible, but he knew it was there. _Bronze._ He hadn’t admitted his disappointment in not winning gold at the time—he didn’t want to let his team down—but now, he was proud. They didn’t have to win. They just had to do it together.

 _Today we’ll be married,_ Rin thought, picturing Haru behind his eyelids. He was surprised that it was Haru’s twelve-year-old face he saw first—that annoying little pout and those big, blue eyes. He smiled, remembering how mature he'd thought Haru was in middle school, and how beautiful he’d looked when they later reunited. The tension in his shoulders unknotted, and he felt like he was floating in water where he stood. _I’ve always loved you, Haruka Nanase._ Rin breathed in deep, overconscious of his steps as he approached the door.

 

Fujioka was holding his phone, and kept on checking each time it buzzed even though Haru told him not to. He hadn’t thought their relay teammates knew much about their lives back home, but when Fujioka displayed the phone to Haru, he couldn’t help but grab it when seeing Makoto’s name.

 _I know we’re not supposed to be contacting you!_ it said. _But I’m so happy. Congratulations, Haru. I love you both so much._

Haru couldn’t answer. Not now, not when Pastor Mikael came in, asking if he was ready. The phone disappeared back into Fujioka's pocket, and they all nodded to one another before leaving Haru alone.

He wasn’t nervous, not like Rin probably was. He smiled, glad they were in separate rooms. Rin was probably being annoying. _Rin was always annoying_ , he thought. He’d never left Haru alone—not in elementary school, not in middle school, and definitely not in high school.

 _But I wouldn’t change that_. If not for Rin, he’d still be trudging through an art degree he had no interest in pursuing. More than that, he’d never have learned the point of being on a team. Or being in a relationship. Or being in love.

He wouldn’t be wearing the bronze relay medal under his white suit, the victory they’d won together. Rin hadn’t noticed when he’d put it on that morning—it was his own secret, his way of feeling closer to the man he was about to pledge his life to.

 _I love you, Rin Matsuoka_. He had to admit, he loved even the sound of his name.

“Rin Matsuoka.” It flowed off his tongue like water, tasting sweet like Rin himself. He never did figure out how to describe the taste of Rin’s lips, but now he had a lifetime to figure it out. “Matsuoka . . .”

Haru smiled, feeling the concealed medal as he smoothed down his tie, and opened the door.

 

In the chapel, only the first two pews were filled. In the front sat Coach, acting as their photographer, beside Pastor Mikael. Across the aisle were their relay teammates, their witnesses. Behind them both were others from the Olympic swim team, opting not to wear formal attire but all in their matching tracksuits of Japan. A camera stood in the aisle feeding to the Matsuoka residence, where they didn’t even know how many people were watching. Rin hadn’t asked how many had been invited, and not knowing helped ease his nerves a little.

They approached the altar at the same time. Everyone noticed how they both stumbled slightly when seeing each other—those in person, and those watching in Japan. It was silly, they both knew; they’d helped each other prepare that morning, and knew exactly how the other looked in his white suit.

 _He’s beautiful_ , they each thought, hands trembling as they reached for each other, sharing the same small, nervous smile. Already, someone in the pews was trying to conceal his sobs. The Japanese officiant stood at the pulpit with a copy of their vows, a pair of wedding bands in his pocket, and a broad smile.

“Dear friends and family,” he began, “who are both here in Rio de Janeiro, and watching from home in Iwatobi, Japan. Thank you for joining us to celebrate the union of Rin and Haruka.”

The surprise wasn’t that Rin started to cry, but that he’d lasted a whole five minutes without doing so. For years to come their witnesses would debate whether Haru cried, too, but only Rin knew the truth.

And he would never tell.

“The grooms have requested a moment of silence for those who have passed into the next life. We regret that they cannot be with us bodily, but are here in spirit. And for Rin’s father in particular, whose own dreams have finally been achieved. Rin and Haruka, we may not have been personally acquainted, but any father would be proud of the accomplishments of his son and forthcoming son-in-law.”

A deep sob erupted from the pews and they all glanced at their photographer, who held a damp tissue to his eye. Haru smiled and turned back to Rin, holding tighter to his hands, praying that their shared warmth would staunch the flow of Rin’s tears. He’d ceased his silent sobbing, though the water continued to spill from the corners of his eyes. _I love him_ , Haru thought, his smile growing wider.

“It’s metaphorical that tonight’s guests are literally watching from around the world. For that defines Rin and Haruka’s love as well. It’s impossible for me to conduct this ceremony without mentioning their Olympic victories. And as a fellow countryman”—the officiant grinned—“I, like all of you, have followed their path. Their road to Olympic success mirrors that of their future lives together—the passion, the dedication, and the mutual support.”

Rin was fixated on Haru’s eyes. They shined so bright and clear, and he wondered how he’d ever had trouble reading him. Haru wasn’t emotionless, as others believed; he held _too_ _many_ emotions, churning within that gaze, too complex to define. Rin took a small step forward, his heart beating madly against his Olympic medal. _I love him_ , he thought, the tears drying stiffly on his cheeks.

“Rin and Haruka will now share the vows they have written which, if I’m to understand, they fought over someone's stubborn wish to keep them hidden until this moment.” A soft chuckle erupted from the pews, and Rin turned to glare at them.

“Rin,” Haru said, and Rin whipped his head back to his soon-to-be husband. Haru still held both his hands, though they sweated profusely. But he didn’t say anything further—he simply looked at Rin with that small, comforting smile, and Rin wouldn’t have cared if he’d never spoken his vows at all. With Haru, he only needed that smile. Haru didn’t care about words; he cared about their joined hands, his warmth surging through Rin’s fingers and his body.

“Rin Matsuoka . . . when we met, you were a pain.” The tears began to gather at the corners of Rin’s eyes again but he smiled, swallowing back a sniffle. “Always following me around and making me swim in your relay. But . . . you changed me.” Haru looked down at their hands, took in a breath, and then lifted his head again. “You inspire me. You take risks and don’t give up, and I . . . needed that. You knew that before I did. You make me laugh—”

“He admits it,” Rin whispered, loud enough for all to hear, sending a ripple of laughter through the chapel.

Haru smirked. “I love you, Rin. I want to make you happy. I promise to wipe away your tears”—he swiped the corner of Rin’s eye with his thumb—“and make you smile again. You promised to show me a sight I’d never seen before.” Here, Haru looked up at the chapel’s ceiling, then out to their small audience. “You showed me a lot of sights. I remember all of them. I won’t forget this one, either.”

That single swipe did little to clear away his tears as Rin bowed his head, dripping onto their clasped hands. Haru’s initial reaction would be to kiss him, but not yet—now, he waited, waited for Rin to take that deep breath and look back up, not even breaking their joined hands to wipe at his cheeks.

“You took my line.” He softly laughed, then took another deep breath. “I promised to show you that sight, but you’ve shown me more. Haruka, you’ve always been my light. From the first time I saw you swim, I knew you were special. I didn’t know how special then, but . . . we were twelve.” For the first time since the ceremony started, he relaxed. He released one of Haru’s hands to wipe a trickle of sweat from his temple. “You believed in me when I lost hope, and you showed me what it means to love. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m lucky that you love me. I love you so much, Haru, and I’ll live the rest of my life proving that.”

Haru didn’t mind that Rin’s hand was soaked in sweat and tears when they joined hands again. The officiant took the wedding bands from his pocket, holding them out on his outstretched palm. Rin and Haru carefully picked them up at the same time.

The ring vows were simpler, more traditional, more words of love and promises that neither would remember later. All they would recall of the exchange was the way the other’s hand trembled as they slid on the ring, and that they’d fanned their hands out to compare. The sun had set outside and the lights in the chapel were dim, but there was no sight more beautiful than those matching silver rings fitted perfectly on their fingers.

“It is my honor and privilege to pronounce you united as one in love and marriage,” the officiant concluded, and the small crowed roared. Yazaki loudly wept and Fujioka lifted his hands as he clapped, the sounds magnified in the small chapel. Coach tried desperately to get as many photos as possible, inching closer to the altar without blocking the video feed. The officiant smiled. “You may seal your commitment with a kiss.”

Before Haru even touched his waist Rin burst into fresh tears, full-out sobbing as he cupped Haru’s face. Haru’s smile was gentle, his eyes shining as Rin stroked his cheek, the new feel of the wedding band against his skin.

“Haru,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as he met his husband’s lips.

And nearly twenty thousand kilometers away, in a small fishing town in Japan, the roar of celebration rivaled that of an entire Olympic stadium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are to _Everlong_ , by Foo Fighters, because you know Rin listened to all the 90s alt rock in Australia because he's a damn hipster and that album is "vintage." (I'm depressing myself.) Even better, it's the [acoustic version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgMkST2rUR8), because that's more romantic.  
> (He played the album for Haru later. Haru wasn't impressed.)
> 
> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/96876065938) on tumblr.)


	20. Epilogue

Upon walking through the sliding glass doors of the Iwatobi Swim Club, members and guests alike felt they were coming home. Its lobby resembled a now-famous club in Kyoto, one that procured four Olympic medalists in Rio. It was filled with the usual swim club fare in its displays, the certificates and trophies boasting its members names. But behind the reception desk, where you were greeting by a warm, friendly face, the glass display bragged of its new owners.

Their Olympic medals shined under a spotlight front and center—three silver, two bronze, one gold—and surrounding them were other victories, medals and trophies from meets around Japan and beyond. The 2014 Australian championships had its own corner, being the first international meet they competed in together. And while many in the small town questioned the validity of their union—after four years, it still wasn’t legally recognized in their country—they insisted upon including a photograph of their wedding day, smiling in a small chapel in Rio de Janeiro, donning matching white suits.

While the lobby was warm and welcoming, the distant sounds of the pool could be heard: the splash of the water, the whistles, and—if he was there at the moment—one particular owner’s voice projecting over them all.

“Let’s go, Yuki! I’ve seen you swim better than that!”

A young girl came gasping out of the water, pulling down her goggles as she scowled. “I’m trying, Rin-sensei!”

He looked natural wearing legskins again—Rin had always hated the feel of jammers, despite his husband’s unnatural affinity for them. His eyes flitted toward lane one, where Haru was still doing laps. He hadn’t come up for the past ten minutes.

“How can he _do_ that?” Yuki asked, unsurprised where her teacher’s eyes had wandered again.

“ _That_ is from years of practice.” He clapped, and then stepped to the end of her lane. “Let’s try that again.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s not time to go yet?”

Rin smirked. “Nice try.”

They all marveled that the club was open that day at all—it was a big day for its owners. But there they were, working and swimming as they had been for the past three years. They wouldn’t have it any other way. From the moment they returned home from their Olympic journey, they’d worked under their old coach Goro Sasabe at the Iwatobi Swim Club. But with the club in good hands, Sasabe was determined to fulfill his own dream—to open clubs around the region, to pass down his passion to even more dedicated young swimmers. The club’s new co-owners were wholeheartedly accepted into the role. Though some raised eyebrows over their apparent marriage overseas, it was impossible to resist the devotion and charm of their local Olympic athletes.

When interviewed, they were often asked, “Why Iwatobi?” They could go anywhere in Japan, anywhere in the world. Haru left the media exposure to Rin, who had always been more natural in front of the camera. “Iwatobi is home,” he’d reply, as Haru smiled beside him. “This is where we want to be.”

 

Haru had thought he’d be anxious about Rin moving into his childhood home, but domestic life suited them. The house was big and airy compared to their cramped quarters in Kyoto, and especially the dorm-like room in the Olympic Village. A few adjustments were made—the spare bedroom was converted into a home gym; the old bathtub replaced for one larger—and they lived together comfortably, though not without their spats and squabbles. But they’d learned well enough over the years to kiss and make up before going to bed, and to greet each morning with a warm smile and an early-morning run together.

Their childhood friends hadn’t gone far. Rei and Nagisa had both settled in Tottori, a mere train ride away. Makoto taught elementary school in Sano; Gou lived with her mother as she practiced sports therapy, which she claimed was a temporary arrangement until she married (not that she was yet engaged). Rin and Haru employed her part-time at the club, teaching kids about the importance of health and, of course, muscular anatomy.

Now, Gou bolted into the club, ignoring the smiling face of the receptionist and not even stopping to admire their display, despite delightfully staring at it each time she’d passed before. “Onii-chan! Haru-nii-san! What are you _doing_?”

“Teaching!” Rin barked.

Haru finally stopping swimming, having heard the shrill echo of Gou’s voice through the waves of the pool. He poked his head above the water. “Hello, Imouto.”

“Don’t you ‘Imouto’ me!”

“Stop shrieking!” Rin cried. “Where’s Ma?”

“She’s already there,” she huffed. “And I’m going to lose my spot because I had to come and get _you_.”

“You won’t lose your spot,” Haru said calmly, pulling himself out of the pool. He tugged off his swim cap, then shook out his damp hair. “Go. We’ll be there.”

Gou sighed heavily, but quickly hugged her brother before following command. She kept a safe distance from Haru’s damp, muscular body, wanting to hug him as well, but merely squeezed his biceps instead. Rin rolled his eyes when she held on longer than necessary.

“And don’t forget about your lesson this weekend,” Haru added, gently nudging her away.

“I won’t!” She grinned, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “I’ve been practicing!”

Slowly, the pool began to empty out. Those who’d been swimming laps came over to shake Rin’s and Haru’s hands before scurrying to the locker room. The students were the last to get out, desperate to hug their instructors before they left. Rin looked over the empty pool as the last of them disappeared, its waters suddenly still.

“One lap before we go?” Rin asked.

Haru fitted his goggles back on. “It’s never just one lap with you.”

They knew everyone watched—the glass wall on one side of the room looked out to the lobby, where people started to gather. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Members often crowded there after the pool had officially closed, waiting for its owners to jump in themselves.

And they always did.

Each night was like watching the Rio Olympics all over again. They’d long since stopped timing their races, as they’d grown weary of bickering over who’d won long into the night. But it was beautiful to watch them mount the starting blocks, shaking out their limbs like they hadn’t already been swimming all day.

But tonight they didn’t dive, not yet. From the hallway, it was impossible to know what they spoke of as they stood on the blocks. They could only see the co-owners in profile, but spied Rin’s smile and the small blush on Haru’s cheeks. They nodded to each other, then simultaneously crouched before diving in.

It was always freestyle, despite Rin-sensei’s specialty being butterfly. They refused to explain why. Sometimes, it would only be a couple laps, but some days they stayed long into the night. But this evening, Rin was true to his word: one lap before they climbed out, grabbing towels off the bench to quickly dry off.

The calm, easy silence was interrupted by the pounding of feet through the lobby, which grew louder in approach.

“You’re late!” Rin cried, as Makoto barged into the pool area.

“Sorry!” He nearly stumbled as he thrust a garment bag into Rin’s arms. “It’s not easy getting into the display out front.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Haru replied, unzipping the bag. The crowd at the window pressed to the glass as he took two freshly-steamed tracksuits from the bag, which the public hadn’t seen since their Olympic debut. Rin grinned, holding his jacket out before him, then turned it around to admire Japan’s logo on the back. Makoto then pulled two Olympic bronze medals from his pants pockets and draped them around their necks.

“This one’s Rin’s,” Haru said, turning the medal over.

“How do you _know_ that?” Makoto asked.

“Leave it,” Rin replied, ignoring him. Haru smiled, letting the medal fall to his chest.

Makoto was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. Haru turned to the crowd at the window and Rin grasped his hand, lifting it high between them. The group burst into cheers.

“Let’s go, babe,” Rin said, and Haru nodded. They ducked into the locker room to change.

 

Right outside the swim club, it was quiet. It felt like they’d turn for home as usual, walking the worn path they’d traveled so many times, for so many years. But instead they turned toward the shore. That’s where they saw the crowds lining the street, pushed against the wooden black barriers.

Rin looked at Haru, laughing when his eyes widened. He felt good. And Haru _looked_ good, wearing his Olympics tracksuit again. The applause grew louder when they clasped hands and walked the path hand-in-hand, offering high-fives to anyone who stretched over the barrier.

“I didn’t know so many people lived in Iwatobi,” Haru said as they passed, waving until their arms tired.

The route took them past Komi’s Fish Market, and Komi came around the booth to vigorously shake their hands. Rin surprised him with a hug, and Haru concealed a laugh behind his fist as Komi burst into joyful laughter.

“Come back when you are finished,” Komi said, waving from behind the counter. “Mackerel on me!”

Haru’s eyes shone, and Rin forced a smile.

They encountered more of their sponsors the closer they came to the shore. The manager from Sports Zero; their old representative from z-Mobile. Even the photographer from Rin’s one-time stint modeling for the speedboat company, who Rin had been in contact with again.

It was a conversation they had often. Rin had _liked_ the modeling. He’d expected Haru to vehemently disagree, but he’d encourage him—in so many words. “Your face is pretty,” he’d say, pushing Rin’s hair behind his ear.

“I’m not pretty! _You’re_ pretty!”

“You have a better smile.”

The disagreement would end with kisses and muted giggles.

But Haru only needed the water. While Rin was the more vocal owner of the swim club, Haru was the backbone. He never used the phone—he rarely even sent the mail out—but he took care of the day-to-day, ensuring the pool was clean and fresh towels were stocked. He made sure their students were happy, being able to sense their frustrations without them having to vocalize it.

“All those years with Makoto put to good use,” Rin would say.

“Shut up, Rin. I could always do that.”

But now, Haru came alive when the ocean peeked over the horizon. And with the water came the media. But more important, as they stepped onto the pier, was the huddle of friends and family.

Their parents stepped around the barrier to greet them—Haru’s parents, Rin’s mother, all offering hugs and kisses on the cheek. Sousuke stood beside Rin’s mom like a bodyguard, stone-faced, until he grinned to hug them both as well.

The founding members of Iwatobi High’s swim club, joined by Aiichiro and the Mikoshiba brothers, scrabbled to embrace them. But Makoto stood back, smiling at the commotion as Haru griped over the sudden tackle. When only Gou was left clinging to her brother, Makoto approached to take them all into a single embrace.

At the end of the pier, they were met by an Olympic representative. Rin stared at the unlit torch in the woman’s outstretched hands, then set a hand on the small of Haru’s back. “My husband will carry it first.”

“Are you sure?” Haru asked, though he was already reaching for the golden torch.

Rin knew that Haru could manage the hand-over better. When they’d practiced, Rin’s hands shook too much. They shook even now; Haru could feel the slight tremble on his back. He nodded, accepting the torch from the representative. Though they knew how heavy the torch would be, he still marveled over how lightweight it was. Its size betrayed its weight, easy to carry while running.

“Here it comes!” Gou shrieked, pointing to a speedboat approaching on the water, a white speck against the setting sun. The cameras had already started rolling, and the crowd of people surged as close as they could to the water.

Haru gripped his torch in both hands, watching the flame approach over the water, as Rin looked to their group of friends.

He wasn’t surprised that his mom already cried, Sousuke’s arm around her shoulders. He even smiled as Makoto and Gou held hands, his sister still bouncing like a child over sighting the boat. Rei held to the back of Nagisa’s shirt, for if released he would’ve jumped the barrier and dived into the ocean. Haru’s parents applauded as the speedboat docked.

The current flame-bearer held his torch high as he disembarked, followed by his security entourage and a small band of media personnel. He bowed to both Rin and Haru, who followed suit.

“Rin Matsuoka,” he said, facing Rin, gripping the torch in both hands.

Rin could only bow again in response, fearing to speak lest he cry in front of all of Iwatobi.

The torchbearer fully rotated toward Haru. “Haruka Matsuoka.”

Haru stood straighter, his eyes shining in the torchlight. “Yes.” He tilted his own torch to accept the flame.

The wind lifted off the ocean, the salt air washing over them all, but it didn’t stop the flame from being passed. The moment it ignited Haru turned to face the cameras and the people of his hometown, lifting the torch high over his head. The roar of the crowd never ceased.

“Race you there,” Rin said.

Haru smirked. But first he slung an arm around Rin’s shoulders, whispering so low that the cameras didn’t pick it up. Rin furiously blushed, jerking away from his hold.

“Cheater,” he mumbled, but started to jog in place, waiting for him.

Haru raised the torch higher, the flame fluidly licking the golden sky like water, and then they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple mentions: [amusingmurff](http://amusingmurff.tumblr.com), for being my beta reader and helping me figure out how professional swimming works. Thank you for popping in to say hi during your own journey through law school. (How the _heck_ did you do that?)
> 
> And to all you readers, who I can't possibly mention individually because (1) there are so many, and (2) I'd probably leave someone out, which would make me feel like a big jerk. Readers are what motivates us to keep writing. I can't do this without you.
> 
> Don't forget the spin-off [Like a Fire Alight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2137206/chapters/4667988), which is essentially the same story from Makoto's point of view. Mainly Mako/Gou and how _that_ relationship developed, since there wasn't any possible way to include all that in this fic. (but what's another 50K words?)
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. Thank you for following Rin and Haru on their epic journey.
> 
> (And let us not forget: Rebloggable chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/97409725703) on tumblr.)


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